To Keep a Promise
by ALRYM
Summary: Harry Potter is dead. Hermione Granger has lost almost everything. The only thing she has left is the most important promise she ever made, and she would go to any lengths in order to keep it. On hiatus.
1. In the dead of the night

Chapter 1 - In the dead of the night

* * *

A black beast crept through the night. The messenger of death was on the prowl, unseen and unheard, vanishing in deep shadows between sparse artificial lights. Even with its millions of eyes, London had not noticed the scoundrel.

Its destination was a small alley, just wide enough for a one way street and a line of parked vehicles. The pavement was narrow and made anyone who used it feel trapped between the rundown stores and the iron wall of cars.

The creature slunk out between two of these like a molten shadow. For a short moment long teeth became visible. But even more unsettling than this animal's weaponry were blazing eyes, looking out of its black mass of untamed fur. They were far too intelligent for a beast, and held an expression which would cause shivers of fear and promise nightmares for twenty years to come… if they only had been seen.

A few steps led the dark omen to a door. Its right front paw fell onto the worn handle. The lock failed in its purpose, and traitorously allowed the beast's entrance. Controlled pressure made thick oak planks turn on their medieval iron hinges. Suspiciously, no creak and no squeak could be heard. Someone on the inside had prepared a path for the soft-footed intruder.

The creature crossed the main room of the pub purposefully, but without hurry, finding its way nearly without a glance. It had come to this house before. Barely anything had changed since then. The stairwell was still in its place.

A destination was reached. A paw clawed at a second wooden door.

"Come in," a hoarse voice demanded. Following the patron's wish, the door swung open slowly, revealing a dark room with unlit candles. On the far side a person sat in a wingback chair. The face and details of its figure were hidden in the gloom.

A wand swished. The door snapped shut. Candles lit themselves.

The moment when light fell on the beast it became nothing more than a dog. Under the same influence the person turned into a young woman. Her brown eyes were red from crying, and her face showed scratches from her own nails. Her mouth formed scratchy words: "We need to talk."

That was command enough for the dog to shift into a man with long, black hair. He was tall but his shoulders hunched in a show of depression. His eyes were bloodshot. "Oh, Hermione! I can´t say how -"

"Shut up, Black!" the words exploded from the brunette's lips, and for a moment she seemed ready to jump out of her armchair. Her wand was lifted threateningly. Magic crackled under her hot emotions. She seemed not just ready but also willing to curse her visitor.

Initially, Sirius Black had made half a step forward, but on facing the irate witch, he nearly stumbled in hasty retreat.

"When I said 'we need to talk,' I meant: I will talk. And you will listen!" Her voice was sharp and held no room for compromise. "Understood?"

Sirius gave a single nod.

Hermione sank wearily back into her plush chair. She took a moment to collect her thoughts. The uncomfortable silence grew, and only broke when she rasped the next word. "You were tasked with keeping Harry´s parents safe. You failed. They died." She lifted one finger.

"You could have taken care of Harry, but you decided it was more important to hunt down Peter Pettigrew. A task which you did not accomplish. You were sent to Azkaban instead of Peter." The counting continued with a second finger.

"You managed to escape from Azkaban. A feat no one had ever managed before. And once again you were hunting Peter instead of taking care of Harry!" Hermione hammered her left fist onto the armrest.

Sirius flinched. His face fell and his eyes rotated madly as he realized that he had gambled any possible future away while pursuing bloody revenge - twice! He had not even tried to find another path to follow.

Hermione was so angry she was shaking. Only the fact that her right hand was laying on the armrest made her wand somewhat steady. With a huge effort her fingers uncurled, and finally a third finger rose.

"And now Harry is dead. You promised to protect him. You failed once again." That made four lifted fingers.

Tears as thick as they could be ran down Sirius' hollow cheeks as Hermione twisted the metaphorical knife she had stabbed into his heart: "Harry was treated horrendously all his life! Starting the day he was placed on the doorstep of the Dursleys up to last Friday when he was killed by that damned dragon!" Hermione's fist connected a second time with the armrest.

Sirius swayed. But he still did not dare to speak.

Hermione had not expected him to do so. Once her temper had calmed she resumed her speech. "This is not the second time a Potter will be in your care. It is the third. This is the last chance you will ever get."

A confused Sirius Black blinked his eyes. Wrinkles formed on his forehead. His thoughts could be read without legilimency. He was sure he had missed an important detail. Hermione's words did not add up, and as far as he knew, they always did.

For the first time Hermione´s face softened. Her left hand snuck to her flat belly and she announced, "I am pregnant."

"Harry?" Sirius asked, gobsmacked. A silent nod was more answer than the man could have ever hoped for.

"I know you want the very best," Hermione said with a mix of pity and sadness. "But you are incorrigible." A heavy sigh followed this statement. "None the less I am in need of your services. And so you receive your very last chance."

"I will do anything!" Sirius assured the girl at once. He made a step forward. But her wand lifted exactly at the same time. It was pointed at his face and her magic was eager to be unleashed.

"That is part of the problem." Hermione leaned back and despite the short range of the movement it distanced her from Sirius. "Too many of your choices have been poor. If you want to make it up and do it right for once, I will give you this chance. But if you want to take it, you will have to put your signature on the contract over there. Otherwise I will erase your memory."

And finally Sirius understood why her wand was aimed at him. As his punishment, he would lose the only thought in his head that promised a future. He would be sentenced to an existence of unrelenting grief.

He could not even consider that option. There was no choice. He took the quill.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to LeighaGreene for beta-reading. She improved this story a lot and also cleared up some mistakes and typos!

Disclaimer: Dear reader, if you think this is an original work of art, I have marvelous news for you: There are actual books called Harry Potter, which you should take a look at!


	2. The abandoned house

Chapter 2 - The abandoned house

* * *

Sirius Black's signature was hard to decipher for several reasons. After years in Azkaban his hands were no longer used to delicate tasks. In fact, he had a hard time keeping his grimy fingers from crushing the feather. Not to mention his whole body was shaking from emotional and physical exhaustion. The first was caused by guilt and anguish, while the second was an immediate consequence of the nightmares those feelings brought him. He had not slept in days.

Hermione hardly spared the scrawl on the contract a glance before she rolled the parchment into a scroll, which she shrank to the size of a pen and deposited in the breast pocket of her uniform blazer. She had rarely worn this piece of clothing since that part of their dress code had not been enforced, and most importantly all the blazers were somehow uncomfortable. For most of the student body, the blazer had only been in use at official school functions, which only had appeared recently on their calendar in the form of the events of the Triwizard Tournament.

"I need money to rent a room," she informed the tall man. Her impersonal manner barely concealed her anger. "A place in muggle London, where the ministry won't find me."

"I got more than enough gold in my vault," Sirius offered eager to please. Hermione had already opened her mouth, when Sirius added as an afterthought: "And I have a house protected by strong wards. There would be no way to locate you through magical means once you were inside."

"The house you mentioned to Harry is here in London?" Hermione questioned sharply with prominent disbelief in her voice.

"It is at Grimmauld Place. Number twelve," he told her.

The young witch weighed her options. When she came to a conclusion she explained it out of habit: "Checking into a hotel at this hour of the night would be suspicious anyway. Let's go to your house."

As Sirius was turning to open the door for her, Hermione snarled acrid: "Turn into a dog! You look like a fugitive, which is really inconvenient since you are one! Don't you know they placed a bounty on your head?"

Unable to deny the accusation, Sirius obeyed once more.

Hermione continued to explain: "We need to leave. Staying here is a risk I am not willing to take. The headmaster will inform the ministry any day now that I have run away." While she spoke, Hermione ripped the hem of her cloak. She could not wear it in muggle London anyway. She pointed her wand at the long strip of cloth she had produced and visibly concentrated before guiding the tip over it. Magic turned the fabric into a long strap of leather and a dog collar. While she put the collar on Sirius she kept explaining: "Once the ministry knows I am no longer on Hogwarts' grounds, they should be able to locate me through the trace on my wand. Unfortunately I had to cast on a few occasions."

Hermione opened the door of her private room and led Sirius down the stairs. She did not even have to cast a second time since the door of the bar was still unlocked. They stepped outside without anyone noticing. At the end of Charring Cross Road they turned left, and then right at the next opportunity. And just like that the two of them sneaked not only out of the Leaky Cauldron but out of Magical Britain.

Hermione kept stealing glances at the dog which escorted her. Sirius was huge. His nose was at the same height as her navel. And he was not one of those slim hunting hounds. She thought that he might weigh nearly as much as a dog as he did in human form.

All too soon the witch grew uneasy. She could not keep herself from checking Sirius whenever they passed a street light. No matter how hard she tried it was not possible to point out what unsettled her.

Intellectually she knew she held the leash of a black dog. A human turned into an animal. A so called animagus. She had only just seen him change! Back then neither the dog nor the man had caused her any fear. But somehow she had left that certainty in the warm and well-lit room. Here, outside and in the dark of the night, she had the distinct impression that he was anything but just a hound. She could barely control the impulse in her backbone to run from him as fast and as far as she could.

Thanks to her constant musings, Hermione nearly missed the bus stop. She paused in front of an illuminated advertisement, mildly surprised, and looked at the end of her leash. Sirius was no longer a looming shadow but a fully visible dog. Free to look at him and even more importantly, free of the mind numbing itch to run for her life, a memory rose in her mind.

Hermione had witnessed Sirius' animagus shape at night once before, only a few months prior. Back then, her attention had been mostly on Remus Lupin. Under the influence of the full moon he had turned into a werewolf. And Sirius had protected Harry, Ron, and herself by holding his ground against a magical beast of the most dangerous class. A feat impossible for a mere dog no matter how big.

But before she could come to a conclusion, something else demanded her attention. A group of three young men had weaved around a corner. They were talking far louder than necessary. Hermione could nearly understand their drunken slurring despite the distance between them.

She tugged sharply at Sirius' collar. "Make yourself useful and look intimidating."

There was no way the drunk guys could not have hit on a teen girl in her school uniform. The left one started it: "Oi! Look at that bird!"

"She is a fine one!" the one on the right backed him up.

Even the most wasted of the trio had something to add as they approached, but neither Hermione nor his friends understood his slur.

A rumble more a vibration than an actual sound made itself heard. Sirius made a small step in the direction of the three guys. His head dipped into the shadows beyond the advertisement. "If he chooses to attack you, I cannot hold him back," Hermione commented, pulling weakly at the leash.

It was a different kind of magic when the three guys partially sobered up. Suddenly even the one in the middle was able to support himself. They did not even dare to cross the road to evade Sirius. They simply retreated around the corner.

As soon as they were gone Hermione hissed: "Don't wag your tail! You are not really a dog." Sirius obeyed, but he noticed Hermione's voice was lacking some of its previous sharpness.

Before Hermione could return to her previous thought, a classic red, double-decker bus arrived. It stopped exactly at the marked spot allowing Hermione to step onto its small platform and enter. She was in the process of deciding whether she wanted to climb up for a little privacy or to take a seat on the lower level, when the engine died.

To Hermione's immense surprise the driver left his cabin. It was a man with graying hair and a veritable belly. He wore a displeased expression.

"I've got no money," she said defiantly.

"Do you know how late it is?" the driver asked, his tone disappointed, not even acknowledging Hermione's words. "You should lay in bed! Only drunk idiots are around at this hour of the night."

Stubbornness flickered over Hermione's face but surprisingly for Sirius it gave way to guilt before she answered: "I am on my way."

"You better be! Your parents worry." The man huffed and went back to the steering wheel. A few seconds later the engine roared back to life and the vehicle was once more en route.

It was not really astonishing for Hermione that it took the bus only a few minutes to reach the stop closest to Grimmauld Place. The streets were deserted. On most traffic lights, only the central amber blinked. And it was to be expected that Grimmauld Place was rather close to Diagon Alley.

It turned out that the house was another five minute walk away from the bus stop.

"This looks shabby," was Hermione's first comment as they entered the street. When she figured out which was number twelve she specified: "And that looks like a ruin."

Sirius' former home was one in a row of identical houses. A thorough cleaning of the whole street was in order. The pavement was dirty and all buildings were in bad shape. A fresh layer of paint would not have been amiss. Number Eleven seemed to be abandoned, or so the broken windows and the nailed up door suggested.

The contrast between number twelve and all others buildings made the first impression even worse. The house's façade had seen no maintenance in decades. The former white color of the lowest floor was now dirty gray. The paint on the door had nearly finished the process of peeling off. And the bricks of the upper floor appeared even darker than those of Number Eleven. At least the windows were all intact. But they were also blind.

Sirius went closer to the house. As he reached a part of the pavement that looked more like a rubbish dump he shifted back into human shape. "This is how far the wards reach. Muggles can't see this house."

In his human form, he climbed the seven steps that led up to the front door. He laid his hand onto the doorknob. A heavy deadbolt produced a scratchy sound on the other side of the wood. "This door has not been used in decades. My mother hated muggles and would only leave through the floo."

"Why did she even choose to live here?" Hermione groused.

Sirius repeated a phrase his mother had never tired of reciting: "Because the ancestral home of the Black family has been exactly here on this stripe of land for about a thousand years."

He had to use his shoulder to lever the door open.

As Hermione stepped over the threshold she was greeted by an unlit, moldy hall. Spider webs crisscrossed the ceiling. Dust and dirt had gathered in every corner and atop everything from the furniture to the rotting cloaks on their pegs.

"My mother has been dead for nine years." Sirius mused. "Maybe the house elf died shortly after her?" He had not noticed the trail of small footsteps on the ground since his eyes were focused on the bizarre pattern created by the cobwebs.

"You! Traitor! Scum!" screeched a woman in a painting. She hung opposed to the front door at a spot on the wall from which she could oversee the hall and the stairwell. A perfect spot to scream at anybody who entered. "You are not welcome in this house! You are no son of mine! Leave at once! You were disinherited!"

Hermione clamped her hands over her ears. The voice of the woman was so loud and shrill that it was physically painful to listen to her. Finally her agonizing rant ended in a single word, which she screamed for good measure with all the strength she could muster: "Kreacher!"

Sweet, soothing silence followed upon this meaningless and thankfully last word. The quiet was so welcome that neither Hermione nor Sirius wanted to break it.

A house elf appeared magically. He shared many similarities with Dobby, but was at the same time distinctively different. This elf was stricken with old age. He was wrinkled and haggard. The elf blinked owlishly. Obviously he had been asleep. After all it was still too late and too early to be awake without a reason.

Whatever else Hermione was about to think, was blown away by another scream. This one originating in the throat of the old house elf. "Blood traitor! How dare you defile these halls? Out! Leave at once!"

Sirius did the only sensible thing he could think of. He grabbed Hermione's shoulder and pulled her out of the house. The front door nearly hit them when it was forcefully closed.

"What was that?" Hermione asked. The scene Sirius had let her into had perplexed her. But the man could clearly observe how ice cold determination took hold of her once more.

"The woman in the painting is my mother. And the house elf was her most loyal servant. His name is Kreacher." Sirius face contorted in remembrance of both.

Hermione glared at Sirius. "You said your mother is dead."

"Yes."

"So this painting is all that is left of her?" questioned Hermione.

"Yes."

"As I understand it, this house is now yours. Just like Kreacher."

"That is true."

"Then why are we are standing here on the stoop?" Hermione's nostrils flared in anger.

Sirius shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He turned for the door. The deadbolts gave unwillingly way and they entered once more.

"Dirty scum is defiling the holy and ancient halls of the House of Black!" Kreacher seethed.

"Quiet!" Hermione barked.

The elf's right hand lifted and pressed itself over his mouth in a way that made him look remote controlled. The skinny fingers bent intently around the lower half of his face, effectively sealing his mouth shut. For a moment the elf tried to peal his own fingers away, but his left hand was no match for its counterpart.

"Well that works quite well!" Hermione exclaimed, somewhat pleased.

"What have you done to my house elf?" the painting screeched.

"Silencio!" Hermione's spell hit the painting.

It did them no good. Mrs. Black was now so enraged she looked close to a stroke. Her voice climbed so high Hermione felt her teeth vibrate. "How dare you cast at me?"

"Silence her!" Hermione commanded, pressing her own hands over her ears.

Obviously against his will, Kreacher turned around and snapped his fingers. Curtains drew themselves closed and hid the painting out of view and earshot.

"This painting has to be removed," was the third order she gave Kreacher.


	3. Hiring Dobby

Chapter 3 - Hiring Dobby

* * *

A two hundred year old page of parchment turned under delicate female fingers. Brown eyes raced frantically over handwritten lines. A teenaged brow furrowed in concentration as a young scholar tried to escape from her haunting memories the only way she knew. She was trying to push everything aside and come undone in the activity of studying.

It wasn't working.

Examining and internalizing little moving pictures which illustrated the text, Hermione felt a sudden burst of sadness: Harry would have loved this book. It explained first how to cast a spell, presented its uses in a duel and afterward presented effective spells to counter it.

She had stopped reading, her eyes blindly fixed on one of the sketches. She barely registered the wand repeating the same movement over and over. The sadness grew stronger with every breath, threatening to make her crumble. When she was fully engulfed and ready to break down, something else happened.

Rage overwhelmed her. It fed on her sorrow like fire on sooty coal. If it had been a blinding flash it might have been less painful than the sadness, but as it was, her anger was burning on a constant high, searing and hurting her, ultimately scaring her.

When Hermione came back to her senses, her hands had cramped around the edges of the tome. She tried to relax them. She tried to even her breathing so her nose would not flare at every intake of air.

She slammed her book shut with a fluid motion, threw it on a nearby table, and jolted on her feet. A few long strides later she could be found standing outside of an ancient bedroom, arms akimbo. "Sirius!"

She tried to hold onto the fury. It was easier for her to be angry than sad. Everything got extremely hard when she was in the blue. She could find no motivation for anything. Sometimes she even found herself hiding from the world in her bed. At least while she was enraged she got some things done.

A creak accentuated an opening door. Sirius Black emerged clothed in muggle wear. As soon as he left it he shut the room off. "This one is nearly done."

Grimmauld Place was still a dirty and more importantly an infested place. As if to prove this point, Sirius' clothes had been stained by dust while his hair was knotted and his skin scratched by angry Pixies. At times it seemed that the only reason for the magical pests to not roam the halls freely were other vermin preying on them.

"Sirius why is it that we are still living in the middle of a garbage bin? It has been over a week and there are only two partially inhabitable rooms." The young woman gestured at their two bedrooms. The sleeve of her loose jumper dangled distractingly around her pointing arm. They had bought clothes a few days prior. Hermione had chosen to only wear black for the foreseeable future. It was fitting for her mourning.

"Three." Sirius corrected and tried a lopsided grin. By now he knew Hermione at least a little, and so far he had learned two things. First, her mood was best when she had read a book. And second, he got away with a very certain kind of humor.

Hermione huffed indignantly. "Fine lets count the library too!" Sirius had been working on it for days but was still not done.

"Thank you," Sirius drawled ironically. But this time he failed at lightening the mood. He knew it instantly, as Hermione's eyes became slits.

"I thought this would be the least of our problems!" the witch hissed. "We managed to get pounds from Gringotts! Ollivander was willing to send you a wand of the same materials and measurement as your old one! We could even verify that the wards around this house had not eroded after years of missing maintenance!"

Hermione was short, especially in comparison to Sirius but her temper made up for that. The man already feared her outbursts. He tried very hesitantly to defend himself: "It is complicated to clean the house up."

"Why is that?" Hermione probed tersely.

"For a lot of reasons..."

"Name them!"

Sirius sighed. He gestured at the door behind him. "Well those pests are magical. They may be small and relatively weak, but they're fast, and I have to capture or banish them one by one."

"What else?"

"I am not very proficient with household spells. Summoning dust or making it vanish or even banishing it into a single corner is actually rather complicated! These charms are weak in power but they are area-of-effect or multi-target spells and that makes them hard to execute. It would be easier if I was at least used to the furniture but I have not been here for two decades and barely remember anything besides my own room and the damn drawing room!"

"Kreacher can do the cleaning while you concentrate on eradicating those magical nuisances!" appointed Hermione.

"The damn house elf is of no use!" Sirius started his own complaining tirade. "He only follows my orders superficially. If he does something, he does it as slow as possible and imperfectly on top! Half of the time he wanders off as soon as I look away. And I am pretty sure if I call for him he evades my summoning by pretending he cannot hear me."

"Elves can do that?" Hermione blinked bewildered. "I thought they were bound to follow their masters command?"

"They are! But over the years they get away with certain things and accept those as extension to the boundaries they are allowed to make decisions in," Sirius rushed to explain, in hopes of defusing Hermione's rage.

"That is fascinating," Hermione whispered. "So basically if they don't want to do something they can find a way to evade a chore."

"They cannot outright disobey," Sirius clarified. "But you would have to be extremely specific on your orders to make them do something they don't want to."

"So there is nothing we can do to make Kreacher more useful?"

"No."

After a long moment of silence Hermione came to another realization: "He could even betray us. Just like Dobby did with the Malfoys!"

"Shit!" was just the first curse from Sirius' lips. After gathering at least superficial composure he called: "Kreacher! Kreacher come here in this instant! Whatever you are doing, stop it and come here now!"

For once it seemed Sirius had found the right commanding tone. The called elf appeared in front of them. He bowed in such an overly respectful manner that it was obviously sarcastic. "How can Kreacher serve his master today?" The small being spared Hermione barely a look but even that was enough to express his loathing.

Sirius glanced at Hermione. She had stiffened. If Kreacher hated Sirius, there was no word to describe how he felt about the young woman. In the role of his master, Sirius had given the elf a lot of instructions over the past week. Especially on how to treat Hermione. But it was obvious that the creature was full of malice towards her. And despite Sirius' numerous orders, the elf found a surprising amount of opportunities to display his feelings.

"You will not leave this house." Sirius started and took a moment to think over what else he did not want the elf to do: "And even while you are here, you are not allowed to talk to anybody except myself and Hermione. You are not allowed to use the floo connection or send a message in any other way." Sirius became quite creative in the next few minutes. He had obviously put a lot of thought into circumventing security measures. Finally Sirius finished: "If we tell you to leave us alone or go away, you are still not allowed to leave the house. Do you understand?"

"Kreacher would never betray his family. He understands perfectly," answered the wrinkly elf proudly. "Is Kreacher allowed to retreat?"

"As long as you stay inside the house," Sirius demanded once more.

"Kreacher would never leave." The elf snapped at his current master before he vanished with an overly loud cracking sound.

Like the wizard beside her, Hermione stared at the spot Kreacher had vacated: "What do you think?"

Sirius tried to straighten his hair out. "I think that he will have a hard time getting around that."

"Fine," Hermione nodded. "Now what about the house?"

"Kreacher will never be of any use to us. We need an elf that is willing to do at least the cleaning part. He could even cook for us. I don't see Kreacher changing his attitude about burning our food to cinder." Sirius sighed. "But there is no way we could get an elf. Since I am a fugitive and you are a muggleborn we could neither get one from the ministry or another family."

Hermione thought this over. "We could ask Dobby to work for us temporally. Naturally we would pay him."

"Dobby? Is that the elf Harry freed at the end of his second year?" Sirius asked curiously.

"Yes that is him. I will owl him and ask." And with that Hermione retreated to her room leaving Sirius behind in the hallway.

As it turned out, Dobby arrived the next morning before Hedwig actually returned to Hermione's side. The elf had a pretty set idea what he wanted out of this job. Had Hermione or Dobby been less stubborn the negotiation could have been far shorter. But for some unknown reason Dobby insisted his payment to be no more than 3 Sickles and 5 Knuts a day. At least on the matter of holidays Hermione managed to trick the small being into a second day off if a month housed more than four Sundays.

"That will be fine Miss Grangy!" To Hermione's embarrassment the little elf bowed so deep his nose nearly touched the ground. "Dobby is happy to work for family." Dobby bowed once more. "Working for school was fun too but working for family is better." And he bowed a third time.

"Please stop bowing."

"Miss Grangy don't like bowing?"

"No I do not like you to bow to me. And please call me Hermione."

"So no bowing?"

"Right no bowing."

"All right Miss Grangy." The elf was ridiculously happy.

"Dobby! Look at me. I want you to concentrate. From now on you are going to call me Hermione." She spoke her name slow and enunciated clearly. "This is important to me. I know you will not manage instantly, but I am sure you can do it."

Dobby nodded in understanding.

After a moment the witch asked: "How will you address me?"

"Her-my-oh-NE!"


	4. Hiring Remus

Hiring Remus

* * *

Remus Lupin had had financial problems all his life. He rarely managed to secure a job, and when he managed to do so, he was never able to keep it for long. He was literally cursed. Nobody wanted to hire a werewolf. Those who did offered him the meanest of wages and fired him at once if anybody unveiled his thrice damned secret.

A whole year as Hogwarts' professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts was the best job he ever had. Plus he managed to resign before he got dismissed. The money he had earned enabled him to buy himself a small cottage in Cornwall. The best thing that he could say about his new home was that the roof held the rain outside (if only just). It certainly did nothing to keep the cold from creeping in, and was overall a shabby hovel. But at least from now on he would always have a place to sleep.

Once more Remus cursed his lack of skill in construction spells. If his wizardry had been on the practical side of magic, he would have had an easier life overall. Carpentry would have been perfect. He could have made furniture and magical trunks, selling them to shopkeepers who he could have avoided on the days his curse became more noticeable. Nobody would think twice of it if they could not meet a craftsman in his shop. But as the cards had been dealt, he could only rent out his knowledge or his working power.

At least he could call himself lucky because it rarely got cold enough for snow in southern England. But that was a weak comfort to a man shivering in his own bed. Therefore a disgruntled Remus slipped out of said doss. He dressed and moved to the kitchen for breakfast. It took no time at all to cross from one end of the house to the other, but something stopped him from reaching his destination.

On the bare floor of his short corridor lay a letter. An owl must have stuffed it through the letter slot of his front door, because no muggle could set foot on his magically hidden property – at least for this his knowledge was useful.

He turned the letter over curiously. It was obviously of magical origin. If the parchment had not been enough of a hint, someone had sealed it with the imprint of a sickle. He had never seen that before. Remus turned the letter once more. Only his name decorated the back. The handwriting was neat, fluent and well proportioned - in one word: perfect. And it was somehow familiar.

His knowledge of magical beasts proved handy in that moment: the missing address meant that whoever send the owl had met him previously. Otherwise his name alone would not have been enough information for the owl. Contrary to common belief, owls could not just find anyone. They needed a magical pointer to do so.

A name was a strong magical pointer. But a name only held magical properties under certain conditions. The name of any person a wizard had never met, was just a string of letters. They held no magical trace. It was the imprint of knowledge lingering in the name that allowed an owl to actually find someone. If this knowledge could not be provided, an owl needed the address.

Only when he was done with his examination did Remus break the seal. The letter was barely a note, and its handwriting was the complete opposite of his name on its backside. It was scrawled, skewed and overall barely readable. In fact, Remus only managed to decipher it because he knew this handwriting by heart. It belonged to the only man he still could call a friend.

He read the words out loud, subconsciously imitating Sirius' voice: "Remus, I know someone who would like to offer you a job. Meet me on the muggle street in front of the Leaky Cauldron at two o'clock this afternoon. - Sirius"

Remus could hardly turn down an employment opportunity, even if it did seem rather… presumptuous of the mysterious employer to demand his presence the same day. At two o'clock sharp, Remus stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron. He had eaten a bowl of stew to cover the fact that he had another purpose on his agenda. The letter had offered enough hints for him to piece together that he was on his way to a secret meeting.

Pulling his robes tight against the nasty cold, Remus set foot on the pavement in front of the secret wizard pub. A black dog barked at him from the corner of the street. Sirius, of course. Remus went over to his old friend and noticed that he was wearing a leash. An elderly woman was eyeing him and the dog warily. "There you are!" Remus said for their watchers benefit and ruffled Sirius thick fur.

When Remus had taken the leash, the dog pulled him down a few streets and into a side alley, where Sirius finally transformed into his human shape. They hugged awkwardly and greeted each other properly.

"What does this note mean?" Remus inquired.

"Ah! You brought it! Very good." Sirius exclaimed and snatched the letter from his friend's hand to stuff it into a pocket.

"Sirius, what is the meaning of this?" Remus asked once more.

"You have to sign this," the other man provided, pulling a document out of another pocket.

"I have to? Have you started working for the Werewolf Registry?" Remus looked closer at the offered parchment and went pale. "That is a magical contract!"

"Obviously," was Sirius dry response. "Just read and sign it okay?"

With a huff, Remus started reading. Someone who meant business had drawn this contract up. It was tight and binding. But its only purpose was to keep secret what Remus would learn from now on of the mysterious person he would soon meet. The handwriting was identical to that of the back of his morning letter. After a glance at Sirius, who gave him a reassuring nod, he signed. "So tell me already, who am I going to meet?!"

Sirius shrugged. "Sorry, but I agreed to keep quiet."

And with that he placed the signed contract in the pocket which had previously held it. After drawing a bus ticket out of yet another pocket, he shifted back into a dog.

"Sirius!" Remus snarled.

The dog only barked happily, pushing his leash closer to Remus' feet, reminding the man of the sort of pranks he used to play in school.

Half an hour later, Sirius wanted to leave the muggle transport. Remus obeyed and followed him through a rundown part of London to the entrance of a scruffy street. He did a double-take at the street sign, then froze on the spot. Finally a familiar name! He had heard more than one description of "Grimmauld Place!"

Sirius choose this moment to break free. The dog ran down half the street and stopped in front of number 12. There he turned back into a human. Remus gasped looking frantically from left to right. Sirius had just transformed himself in broad daylight! Any muggle nearby could have seen him.

He hurried closer: "Are you mad?"

"Could you please step over the ward line?" Sirius asked, gesturing at the pavement, which was noticeably in better shape where Remus stood. Below Sirius' shoes the concrete was not only chipped and broken, but had weeds growing out of it.

Remus stepped forward. "If this is some sort of prank, it isn't funny!"

"I can assure you, it's no prank." Sirius said and went for the door.

"Could you finally tell me who wants to meet me?"

Sirius once again denied him an answer. "Just follow me up to the second floor."

The house was even dirtier on the inside. Remus was not used to any amount of grime. Even if his living space was shabby he kept it clean! But he did wonder what kind of person would want to meet him here. This affair was becoming shadier by the minute. But he held back on asking again who he was meeting since his answer was just a few steps away.

The two men stopped in front of a wooden door that looked just like all other on this level. Sirius knocked and waited patiently. This was especially odd for Remus' friend. Usually he would knock and enter without hesitation. And this was his house. Who could make him wait outside of a door in his own house?

Only when a muffled voice demanded "Come in!" did Sirius step aside. Remus looked at him, perplexed. But Sirius just made a head motion that obviously meant Remus should enter on his own.

Had Remus not previously checked his friend for indicators that he was cursed or even imperiused, there would have been no way he would have entered that room without a wand in his hand. But now that he looked, he could finally see the amused glint in Sirius eye. He was about to comment on it, when the voice once more demanded: "Come in!"

And now that the voice had been louder, Remus recognized that the person inside was not polite but commanding. This scheme had gone along far enough! But before he could comment on it he noticed the shift in Sirius' expression. He was gesturing at the door. But it was his face that made Remus reconsider. His humorous twinkle had been replaced by graveness.

Behind the door was a bedroom. A huge four poster bed stood on the left side. It was neatly made, but had no bedspread, allowing anyone to see the linens. A fact that made him uncomfortable as soon as his nose informed him that he was indeed in the bedroom of a female.

And there she was. She had not been visible at first because she sat in an armchair with her back to the window. The blinding light from the windows hid her very effectively from anyone who entered the room.

"Hermione! What are you doing here?" Remus was officially confused.

"Take a seat," the witch instructed. Her hand gestured to a chair opposite to her own.

Remus hesitated for a moment, but choose to sit and see where all this would lead. "You should be at Hogwarts."

"Harry should be alive," Hermione shot back.

"You weren't at the funeral," the wizard observed.

"I could not risk it," answered the witch.

"What do you mean 'risk it'?"

Former student informed former professor in an unemotional, detached manner: "I have run away from school."

Remus was visibly shocked. Out of all children in Hogwarts, he would have never guessed Hermione to be the one to leave school early. "Hermione I know it is hard. Harry was your friend," Remus started to reason: "I understand that you are sad. I am sad too. But you have to get back to school. This is not what Harry would have wanted. He would have wanted you to..." Remus voice deteriorated to a whisper and finally fell silent. There was a look on Hermione's face he had not thought possible. Was she looking down on him? Was it pity? Was she somehow amused? He could not tell what it was but it did not belong on the face of a fifteen year old girl.

"If you are finished?" Hermione asked with a hint of impatience. "I would like you to read this. It is a magical contract." A parchment was placed on the table between them.

"You wrote the contract Sirius showed me!" Remus accused the witch as he reached for it. Just as expected, the handwriting matched the one he had read so far twice today unmistakably. In hindsight he was surprised that he had not recognized it earlier. After all, she had consistently written him far more than any other third-year student the previous year – and he had spent considerable time commenting upon her meticulously researched papers.

"The previous contract was necessary. In case you are not willing to take the job I want to offer you. It spares me the effort to oblivate you. As it is, you will not be able to tell anybody about me, even if you choose to leave here without even reading that document, let alone agreeing to the offer I have for you." Hermione's fingers drummed on the table. "If you would care to read it? And maybe you could stop interrupting me from now on?" Despite her wording, neither 'question' was a suggestion.

Remus just stared. He remembered Hermione as an eager and driven girl. She still was, but a frightening hardness had settled into her personality. When her finger pointed at the document he finally started studying it. Contracts were not to be taken lightly. Especially when they got longer, like this one.

Upon scanning the first lines he could instantly tell that this contract was as ironclad as the previous one. But he could not believe what he was reading. "This can't be true." Remus whispered repeatedly. When he was all the way through he found two signatures. A boy had scrawled his name under it, beside a girl's all-too-familiar hand. "And the requirements are met?"

"Yes. Both. Harry is dead and I am pregnant with his child," Hermione clarified.

"How?" Remus interrupted himself and shook his head to get rid of the daze he felt. "I mean, I know how! But ... Why are you - of all girls - pregnant? I thought the two of you - and especially you - were more responsible than this!"

"This is not an outcome of irresponsibility on Harry's or my behalf. It is the result of a desperate situation." Hermione clarified acerbically. "Harry thought he was going to die. This was his last wish." At this point the witch could choose between raw anger and despair. Thus her voice rose in volume: "Harry was breaking down. Nobody beside myself was willing to believe or even help him!"

The accusatory tone hit Remus like a slap to the face. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to answer her hostility, but he did not know what to say. It hardly mattered, since Hermione was clearly determined to keep the conversation on track.

With a major effort, she stopped herself short of a prosecution speech: "Maybe you should just reread the contract. Those were our pure thoughts. Magic accepted our intent."

Remus blinked. Magical vows, promises, contracts or whatever you wanted to call the matter were a difficult field. And as they were magical, at their core they were indeed mostly about intent. With a frown, he took Hermione's suggestion to heart and studied the contract with due diligence. This time he took notably longer to reach the two signatures.

He noticed a lot of things that had slipped his mind the first time, as he had been to shocked by the mere existence of such a piece of bureaucracy. What held his attention the most was: "The contract does not force you to go through with it. You could get an abortion. Even now that Harry is dead and the contract is in effect, that option is available to you."

"I am aware of this loophole. I wrote the contract," Hermione told the adult wizard. She knew Harry had not known of it. She had added the relevant lines regarding the thought of unforeseeable medical complications.

"Hermione. You have still got all your life in front of you. If you do this..." Remus trailed off. There were no easy words to describe the change Hermione was about to make to her life. A child was a commitment that changed everything.

"I know everything will change," Hermione acknowledged. "But everything has already changed. Harry is dead after all."

"This will not bring him back." Remus pointed insistently at the parchment. "You should go back to school."

"I could never return to Hogwarts and share a classroom or even a dormitory with my previous classmates." Hermione's voice grew cold. She nearly hissed her next statement: "I despise them for what they have done! For the way they treated Harry!"

Her words hit Remus like a slap to the face. He tried to understand what was driving Hermione's emotions. She must be in turmoil. Maybe she was not even herself. Harry was barely buried after all. Maybe she was just in need of time? "Think about your future. There are other options. For example: What about another school?"

"I have already made up my mind. I am keeping the child. For Harry. But also for myself. Harry is gone. His death changed me. I think I need this chance." Hermione touched her belly.

"That is the reason you could not risk coming to his funeral?"

"Indeed." Hermione's messy hair moved as she bowed her head in affirmation. "I would have been returned to Hogwarts even against my will, and my parents could have ordered an abortion in the magical world as I am legally a child."

"Hermione ..." Remus was still searching for the right approach. "Have you considered, that maybe the adults in your life just want the best for you? Maybe your parents would even accept your decision to keep the child?"

"They would not." Hermione informed the wizard heatedly. "And don't waste both of our time on trying to convince me of the opposite. I know my parents better than you. They would make me get an abortion. This is not what they had planned for me. In fact, it is not what I had planned. But sometimes plans change."

A deep sigh escaped Remus' lips. "If your decision is fixed, why am I here?"

"Like Sirius said, there is a job I would like to offer you," Hermione reminded him. "As I am not of age, I find myself in dire need of a legal representative."

"I am a werewolf," Remus answered uneasily. "And I have no experience as a solicitor."

"But you are legally competent. You are allowed to sign official contracts and follow orders." Hermione counted the things of importance to her.

"Yes, as I am an adult, I can do those things."

"That is what I need," Hermione revealed, obviously pleased with the situation. "I need someone who can legally enter magical areas like Gringott's or Hogwarts and who can assign a solicitor."

Remus became wary. "What do you need a solicitor for?"

"I would like to make sure that my child's legal claims are taken care of and therefore this contract needs to be enforced." Hermione's finger pointed at the document in question. "My child is a Potter. He or she will know their heritage."

Something about this was off. Remus scratched his chin. He felt stubble, despite having shaved only hours before. The full moon was creeping closer. "But that is not all, is it?"

"No." Hermione's face hardened. "I want to sue everybody responsible for Harry's death. The ministry for bringing the Hungarian Horntail onto the school grounds. A creature which they could not handle well enough to guarantee everybody's safety. It is a magical creature of the highest danger classification, and there is no reason it should have been present at Hogwarts. I want all five judges sued for accepting Harry into the tournament. And I want Dumbledore especially sued for allowing someone to enter Harry's name. It was his obligation to ensure the Goblet's safety."

"Dumbledore tried his very best!" Remus defended the man he had always looked up to. The headmaster had personally enabled him to study at Hogwarts. And he was the first man who had given him a real job, even though he knew of his curse.

"Did he try his very best? If so, it was not very impressive, was it?" Hermione asked sharply.

Remus could not let that stand! "It is not as easy as you think it is! I am sure Dumbledore tried everything to protect Harry!"

"He tried?" Hermione shrieked. Her small fist hit the desk between the two of them. "What did he do?! He neither managed to keep Harry out of the tournament nor kept him from becoming the target of everyone's bullying. And he most certainly did not manage to save Harry's life! When I think back, I can't remember a single instance in which the headmaster has ever done anything for Harry!"

"It was not Dumbledore's fault!" Remus repeated stubbornly. "Someone smuggled Harry against both their will into the tournament."

"Not his fault?" asked Hermione shrilly. She needed a major effort to calm herself down. When she finally managed to do so, she set the world straight for Remus. Even if that felt somehow out of balance for him: "It is not your job to determine if he is guilty or not, that is what the court exists for."

Remus had no comeback for this argument. After opening his mouth and trying several times, but without saying a single word, he finally nodded in acceptance. Hermione placed a second parchment on the table. "This is your contract."

There was no denying that Hermione had a hand for drawing up a binding magical contract. This one was as tight as the other two he had seen so far. Remus could not withstand the temptation to ask: "Where and when did you learn about magical contracts?"

"When Harry was forced to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, I looked up how magical contracts worked: how they were cast; if you had to read one before you signed it; how it would get enforced by magic. I was searching for a loophole to get Harry out," Hermione lectured him willingly. It reminded Remus of the occasions when he had overheard her doing the same to Ron and Harry. "But I found nothing except opportunities to prevent the whole situation. Let me give an example: Had Dumbledore not been so eager to cast an age line, the ministry could have chosen to add a condition to the Goblet of Fire to disallow anybody below the age of seventeen from competing."

"You can't blame Dumbledore for this," Remus repeated wearily.

"We will see," was all Hermione had to say.

Remus returned to reading the contract. So far it seemed properly written, outlining the position she had described to him. There was just one thing that bothered him. "Is it really necessary to keep your identity a secret? I can't see why that would be important."

"Because I am a minor and muggleborn on top of that. Whatever I want would be denied just for who I am," Hermione explained calmly. "By claiming the outdated title of regent of one of the oldest Houses in British wizardry's society, I invert the situation. Nobody would imagine someone such as myself to be the regent you are going to represent. They will assume I am stuffy and therefore old and more importantly a part of their society."

This was the moment Remus felt he could weave a personal question into their dialogue. "Why are you offering this to me in the first place? Anybody else would be a better choice because I am a werewolf. Why not hire a real solicitor for this job?"

Hermione's answering smile was devious. "Your connection to the Potter family is well known enough. Your face reminds at least some people of James Potter. And the fact that you are a werewolf is no drawback but an additional asset. The Potters have been well known for their stance on equality for as long as anybody can remember. By hiring you I demonstrate this trait, and that I want to reestablish broken links."

The explanation made Remus think. On the one hand Hermione's plan was far closer to lying than he would have liked. It was lying by omission. But she wasn't wrong. Society in general and the court especially would treat the whole situation differently if they thought a pureblood wizard behind it. What choice did they really have? He resumed reading. After a few more paragraphs, Hermione commented: "Please take note: your actual payment depends on the amount of money in Harry's vault."

"Well then, it looks like I am getting paid the maximum fee. The Potters were always well off. James' father Charlus Potter even accumulated some additional money," Remus informed the girl without looking up. "And when I say 'some,' I am talking about a sum most of us would call a fortune."


	5. Regent of House Potter

Regent of House Potter

* * *

Remus Lupin thought of himself as a hardened man. Everybody carrying his curse got used to certain inconveniences and a not insignificant amount of pain. But the cold wind was still biting his skin. His warming charm was blown away as if it had never been there. He tried unsuccessfully to rearrange the collar of his new cloak, but it was to no avail. The best he could do was hurry. He marched up to the castle with long strides.

The small door he had chosen to enter through swung open before he could even touch it. "Remus what are you doing here?" demanded Minerva McGonagall.

"Glad to see you, too!" he exclaimed sarcastically and slipped inside. He took in the sight of the deputy headmistress. From her hat to her shoes, everything she wore was black. Her eyes were betraying her stern facial features: it was not obvious, but those who knew her could see that Minerva was in great emotional pain. He reminded himself that she was not at fault for Harry's demise and finally answered her question: "I have to talk to Albus."

"A lot of people have to after..." McGonagall swallowed audibly, unable to finish her sentence.

Remus did it for her: "After Harry was ripped to pieces."

"How can you say that?" the witch groused. "I taught you better!"

"Is it not an adequate description?" Remus asked mimicking the castle's Potions master.

His old head of house took a step backwards. Her nostrils flared, but she bit her tongue and kept herself from returning fire. She allowed her eyes to really see the wizard in front of her. And she finally understood this was no friendly visit. The werewolf was here for someone's hide. "Follow me, then."

"I wish ..." Minerva started but once more she could not finish. She was not sure what to wish for. For Harry not to have died, or to not to have been forced to participate in the Triwizard tournament? She made her choice: "I wish this trice damned contest had never been revived!"

"Me too," whispered Remus, allowing his sadness to shine through for a moment.

The Transfiguration professor led her ex-colleague along empty corridors flanked by abandoned classrooms. They met no student, teacher or ghost. Remus was not sure if it was his company or himself, but an eerie mood had befallen Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Even the portraits seemed to be off. Had they always been this quiet? Over all the castle felt not like a school but a forsaken ruin.

"Has anyone told you Miss Granger ran away? Neither we nor the Ministry have been able to find her," the witch revealed her most recent source of distress.

"I was already aware of it," Remus offered.

If nothing else it was a sign of her desperation when the professor then asked: "Do you have any idea where she could be?"

Bound by magic, Remus could not reveal any knowledge to lighten her conscience. "She is clever. I am sure she will return unharmed."

McGonagall gave Remus a sample of her (quite justified) fearful anger: "You are as bad as Dumbledore. He thinks everything will be alright by the end of the school year! You could at least try to think of a place where she could be hiding!"

Still a few floors away from the headmaster's office, Remus tried to wriggle out of the looming lecture: "I kind of checked a place where she could be hiding a few days ago."

Somewhat mollified, McGonagall deflated and offered a hint of an apology: "You are one of the good ones."

The headmaster's office saved Remus from finding a reply for that one.

Minerva declared the name of the candy the headmaster had found worthy to become his password for the time being. For a significant moment the two Gryffindors looked at each other. Remus dismissed the witch: "I will meet you in your office."

McGonagall gave him a nod and turned away as Remus climbed the steps up to the headmaster's office.

"Come in Remus." Dumbledore called, before he could even raise his hand to knock.

The werewolf had still not figured out how Dumbledore knew who stood before his door. His theory was an obscure spell at work. He remembered that James, on the other hand, had been convinced that it was a simple trick like a hidden mirror. He had always said the number of pranks the marauders got away with was proof of this. His often repeated argument was: Dumbledore had been a prankster in his youth. And a hidden mirror would be a huge prank, when everybody expected sophisticated spell work. Maybe James had been right all along?

Thinking of his long gone friend strengthened Remus' decision to stick to the plan. He pushed the door open far more forcefully than necessary. The hinges gave a protesting sound, but despite his efforts wood and stone did not hammer against each other.

It was hardly there, but since Remus was actively looking for it, he saw the short waver of emotion cross Dumbledore's face. At least he had the man's undivided attention. "Welcome, Remus. It is nice to see you."

"I can't say the same." For these few words, Remus received a lot of irritated looks from the paintings of former headmasters behind the actual one. He still stepped forward.

"Please, take a seat," Dumbledore offered hospitably. "Lemon Drop?"

"I am not here to exchange pleasantries." Now the whole collection of paintings seemed willing to rise a turmoil at any moment.

"I guessed as much," Dumbledore stated, only half to himself. He allowed his friendly demeanor to fade away. "What have you come for, then?"

"I have come to secure Harry Potter's possessions," Remus answered formally.

"Secure?" Dumbledore mused.

"All of them," stressed Remus.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Remus, I know you once were a very good friend of James Potter. But that does not authorize you to do this."

"That is true. That would indeed not authorize me," Remus conceded. "But the Regent of House Potter did. In fact, I was ordered to do so."

"Ordered? The Regent of House Potter?" Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in visible surprise. "There is no regent. There is not even a House Potter. Not anymore."

"Your information is not up to date," Remus corrected the old man.

A pattern of deep lines formed on Dumbledore's forehead. Finally he took in the shiny black cloak his guest was wearing. It was of high quality, like the clothes worn beneath. "What is the meaning of all this? What did you do?"

Remus squared his shoulders. "I agreed to be named Steward of the House of Potter."

With a sigh, Dumbledore fished a Lemon Drop out of his bowl and popped it into his mouth. "What did Sirius do?"

"Sirius?" asked Remus, losing his composure for a moment. "How should he …? Was he adopted by the Potters after getting cast out by his own family? Does he have some sort of claim?"

Dumbledore was visibly puzzled. "If it is not Sirius, who is it?"

After his confusion faded, Remus felt relief. His secret was going to hold. Not without a certain amount of glee, he declared: "I am sworn to secrecy."

"And you are not sorry for it," stated Dumbledore flatly.

"Not in the least," Remus confirmed.

The two wizards stared at each other for a long moment. With a deep sigh Dumbledore finally decided to give in. "If you can prove your status, you will be allowed to remove Harry's property."

Remus pulled a scroll out of a pocket and handed it over to Dumbledore. The headmaster unrolled the parchment. The first thing he noticed was the seal of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. It had been impressed into a tricolored blob of wax: golden, silver and copper. He checked the seal for its security measurements and found it adequate. The document's content, however, was odd. "I can't find the name of the actual Regent of House Potter."

"The name is not mentioned," acknowledged Remus. Once more he silently congratulated Hermione for her ploy. When she dedicated herself to obtaining certain knowledge, she was able to not simply achieve the task but ace it. Her contract with Harry was a prime example for this. It had been drafted so well that the goblins had been able to verify that it was authentic and in effect. They had not even needed her presence for a magical counter check.

"I can't accept that." Dumbledore's voice made the words sound as if he was sorry, though they both knew better.

"You will have to," Remus informed his counterpart with the same intonation. "The document was written for my identification as Steward of House Potter only. My duties, rights and privileges are listed and described in the document. I am acting within those borders when I fetch items of undisputed ownership."

Dumbledore turned away from the official document. Once more he went for the grandfatherly approach: "Is something wrong, Remus?"

Remus answered with a hiss: "Harry is dead."

The response hit the old wizard in the guts - just as intended. He sank back into his comfortable chair. For a moment he looked his age and as if he was in dire need of the support the piece of furniture was offering to him. "Please deliver Harry's possessions and express my condolences."

"I will do so, even though I am not sure they will be welcome." Remus retook possession of the scroll, and pulled a letter from his cloak.

Dumbledore turned the thick envelop in his fingers: "What is this?"

"A Notice of Intent to Sue. You were acting in loco parentis. Harry died under your very own eyes. Charges will be pressed against you for neglecting your duties."

Dumbledore looked annoyed at Remus. "Do you think I do not care? Do you honestly think I wanted Harry to die?"

"Personally, I do not think so," the man admitted. "The question will be, do you have anything to prove your intentions? Can you even name a single instance that displays your care for Harry?"

Dumbledore fell instantly silent. They both knew he could not. That was why the letter was delivered so early. Hermione had approved of their solicitor's strategy. Dumbledore should try to prove his innocence. If he did, it would be easier to get him convicted. If he retreated to the stance that he was only Harry's headmaster, they would have a much harder time getting anywhere in the process.

"I'll be going now," Remus declared, rising to his feet. He was out the door before Dumbledore could even break the seal of the letter.

His former head of house and ex-colleague was waiting for him when he arrived at her office. "Remus it is good you are here."

He entered the familiar room. Little had changed since his student days, and nothing since he took his leave as professor. The desk was the same as it had always been as were the chairs – two in front and one behind the table.

"Please have a seat." It was the soft voice of Minerva that spoke the request. She dropped into the chair closest to the door.

Remus accepted the invitation.

"I cannot believe he is dead," the woman Remus had known for so many years confessed. "I was so sure, he would somehow manage to complete all the tasks. I did not expect Mr. Potter to win... But he was fast and had this determination that allowed him to succeed where others failed. I always had the feeling around him, that he could pull off anything he wanted. He killed a basilisk with a damn sword!" The witch said forceful.

"I miss him too," Remus agreed.

"And he had Miss Granger." Professor McGonagall retrieved a handkerchief out of her cloak. "I was so sure she would find a solution for any problem the tournament presented."

Remus knew, he had to ask: "Did you know of the dragon?"

"No! Not even in my wildest nightmares!" Minerva exclaimed upset. "I can't believe they brought four dragons onto the grounds! A month ago the thought of a single one would have been ridiculous!"

"Who knew?" pressed Remus. He knew this was a chance he could not waste.

"I think all the champions knew somehow. Not one of them wasted any time when they entered the arena. They were not nearly as shocked as I would have expected. And all of them had a plan for a situation that should have been a surprise!" McGonagall exclaimed, full of anger. "Who had this damned idea? Back in the day the Tournament was abandoned because a cockatrice broke lose! And they restart it with four dragons? A single one is more dangerous than half a dozen cockatrices!"

The witch was livid. Her face had turned red. But all her anger evaporated in an instant. She sniffed: "When Harry summoned his broom I even thought he would win this round. He was an outstanding flier. He would have gone professional for sure! Just imagine how good he could have been at seventeen!" McGonagall's voice was daring him to disagree with her. "Gryffindor has not lost a single game since he came to school."

"Except the one in which the dementors interfered."

"That one does not count!" McGonagall barked angrily. "That one should have been canceled the moment these creatures entered the grounds!"

"That is true." Remus conceded. "So you think all the champions knew. Who else do you think was aware of the dragons?"

"I am not sure," answered Minerva uncertainly. She was not even questioning why Remus wanted to know. "I am pretty sure Albus knew beforehand. The dragons had to be kept on the grounds for a certain time after all. And I think Hagrid would have known early as the Keeper of Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts. I think Karkaroff and Maxime knew too. But for how long I do not dare to guess. I would not trust those two to not help their students. But how could I blame them, now that the worst has happened? Sometimes I lie awake at night and wonder if I could have helped him somehow. But I have no idea what could have been better than his broom. I am sure he had the best plan out of all the champions."

"Does anybody else come to your mind? Who knew of the dragons?" Remus kept on pressing.

"Some people in the Ministry would have known. I am pretty sure Bartemius organized as much as he could himself but he would have needed permissions and funds. So certain people besides the minister would have been in need of information." McGonagall offered her thoughts. "And Ludo would have been told, too – at least at some point."

Remus nodded absentmindedly. "That is basically what I had pieced together on my own."

A long silence filled the room, when they both tried to figure out additional names.

"Professor ... Minerva, I am also here to collect Harry's possessions."

"Collect? What do you mean?" Ire was rising once more in the seasoned witch.

"House Potter has a new regent. And I have agreed to become its steward. My first assignment is to collect Harry's belongings."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed dangerously. "He had another relative?"

"No!" Remus blurted and hurried to explain. "It is a case of legacy. The new regent is no relative at all and she was in no way capable of caring for Harry."

"Why does she want those things?" McGonagall demanded to know. "There is nothing of worth among them. Those despicable muggles certainly took care of that!" McGonagall leaned forward and Remus felt that he was unbelievable close to getting cursed: "She will not sell them as some sort of token!"

"I can guarantee nothing of that sort will ever happen!" Remus had actually lifted his empty hands to reassure his former colleague of his harmlessness. "I think it is a form of connection to Harry."

"Connection?" McGonagall fell silent. Her head was slightly angled to the left. Her eyes were not fixing Remus anymore. They were staring into the past. "Do you know that I always knew when James lied?"

Remus was surprised by the sudden change of theme, but his old Head of House was right. "He was never very good at lying. James bottom lip always started twitching. I think it was because he tried to hide his laugh once too often."

McGonagall shook her head. "Most of the time Sirius was just as easy."

"Most of the time he did not even try." Remus added pulling a face.

"Sometimes I thought he was too lazy to lie." The witch focused on Remus. "But on a few occasions I could not tell if he was lying. When he got ... earnest it was impossible to read him."

Remus had to hide a grin as the professor had nearly slipped and offered Sirius' favorite pun to him.

"With Peter ... well let's not talk about him," the professor said, disgusted. Even after months to come to terms with his role, it was hard to believe how deep his betrayal ran. "And you! You were a special case on your own. You are a really honest person, but you had a secret to protect even before you came here. And I suppose that more than anything else has made you a rather good liar. No offense."

"No offense taken." Remus assured her quickly.

Professor McGonagall stared Remus in the eye, asking as a woman who had known him since he was eleven years old, "Remus, tell me just one thing: Do you think Miss Granger is safe?"

Remus froze. He knew instantly: they had been caught. "Yes, I think so."

A heavy weight seemed to slip from McGonagall's shoulders. She took a deep breath and whispered: "I feared the very worst."

"Hermione can watch out for herself," Remus assured her.

"I thought the same thing of Moody," sighed the witch.

"Moody?" Remus asked, puzzled. "What has he got do with it?"

Once more the professor looked straight at Remus. "I should not tell you. Albus made a big secret out of it. And only a few people know. But on the day of... the first task, Moody vanished. We did not notice instantly. But when he was gone for a full day we checked his chambers. We thought he may have died in his sleep or something like that. He is not only retired because he became a liability, after all. Anyway! You will never guess what we found."

Remus did not even try to guess: "What?"

"We found Moody. But he was hidden inside of his own trunk. He was shackled and unconscious. And we found flask upon flask of polyjuice potion."

Remus gasped. "Someone impersonated Moody?"

"That is what I thought too. We asked the real Moody. And it turned out, that he had been captured in the last week of summer. He had never set a foot inside of Hogwarts!"

"Constant vigilance!" Remus blurted out. His outburst managed to shock his former professor who reprimanded him with a stern look. Remus hurried to apologize: "Sorry! - But are we talking about the same person here? The Moody?"

"The one and only. Yes."

Visibly shaken Remus leaned against the backrest of his stool. "Why have I not read something about it in the Daily Prophet?"

"Because Albus and Minister Fudge decided that would be unacceptable. They swept everything under the rug." It was more than obvious what the deputy headmistress thought of this scheme. "Somehow they even got Moody fit enough to teach classes over the course of another week."

It took Remus a moment to collect his wits. "And you thought Moody's impersonator was somehow linked to Hermione?"

"How could I not? An imposter and my best student vanishing on the same day? There had to be some sort of connection! I thought she had somehow unveiled his secret and got killed or worse." A shudder ran through the woman.

Half of Remus' mind was still busy with catching up, when he asked: "Worse?"

McGonagall declared in an icy, lecturing tone: "Miss Granger is a young woman. Maybe some would want to argue whether she is a swan, but I think she is no duckling either!" It was clear that whoever dared to hint at the contrary would have to duel a very fierce Head of House Gryffindor.

Remus felt rather uncomfortable. "I understand."

After having stared Remus into submission, McGonagall softened a little: "I would like you to pass her a message."

"Nobody is supposed to know of her whereabouts," Remus said hastily.

McGonagall huffed but grudgingly gave in: "Fine, I will tell nobody – for a week."

Remus would have liked to curse himself. "This is important."

"So is what I want," the older woman emphasized.

Remus barely suppressed a groan. "What is it?"

"I want a letter - written by her own hand! - to make certain that she is indeed fine. I need something for the other Gryffindors. Some of her friends worry over her. They had not as much reason as I had to do so, but these are hard times anyway." In those words vibrated a not very well hidden accusation.

"I will tell her." Remus conceded.

"And tell her: Whenever she is willing to return, her bed will be ready." After a moment of hesitation she added: "And if she is not willing and wants to switch schools, let her know that I will write a letter of recommendation for her."

"I will pass that along," promised Remus. At this point it did not matter how much he had to tell his new employer. She would be furious her secret was out anyway! "Where are Harry's things?"

"In his trunk." A minute later the trunk was in Remus possession. He stood indecisively in front of it. But finally he made his choice and opened it. "Accio invisibility cloak!"

"An invisibility cloak?" Professor McGonagall repeated irritably.

"It belonged to Harry's great-grandfather. It is a family heirloom, and as far as I understand, it was always passed along while the scion was still at school," Remus explained.

"I fear his dorm mates have taken it. I am sure they thought nothing bad." McGonagall defended her cubs. "Harry... was the last Potter after all. I'm sure they just want something to remember him by."

Remus spread his hand in a gesture of apology. "I understand that, but I need it nonetheless."

"I will go and fetch it for you. Meanwhile check if anything else of importance is missing," said the witch and left the room.

Remus turned to the trunk once more. "Accio Marauder's Map!" Again nothing flew into his hands. But as a huge part of the usefulness of the map was its secrecy, he choose to keep its existence hidden from the deputy headmistress.

* * *

A/N: I would like to point out once more that LeighaGreene is checking this. (Sadly I am no wiz at spelling.) I was never aware how useful a beta-reader could be. Some paragraphs turn out significantly better after adjusting them to someone else comments! On that note: If you find something unclear or botched up, please don't hesitate to point it out to me. Have a nice day.


	6. School Obligations

School Obligations

* * *

On returning to Grimmauld Place, Remus brought more than just Harry's belongings. When the door was pulled open and Sirius invited his friend to enter the house, a single word overruled any greeting that could have been exchanged between them: "Crookshanks!"

Hermione rushed to unlock her pet from the cat carrier.

Sirius and Remus were equally surprised. Neither of them had ever heard Hermione's voice in a tone that close to a girlish squeal.

The cat gave a warning hiss, but Hermione ignored it. Instead she cradled her pet in her arms and cooed at it. The huge mass of orange fur was making another indignant sound, but allowed the young woman to rub her cheek on him nonetheless.

Hermione's face showed contentment when Crookshanks finally had enough and wiggled free of his mistress' hold. He snarled at Remus for good measure and stalked a few paces into the direction of the stairwell. The tomcat inspected the house with visible disdain obviously finding it inadequate. A Pixie chose that moment to rush across the hall.

Crookshanks froze. He produced no sound before lunging after the little creature. There was a brief moment of peace while the tomcat examined the house again. A keen meow could be heard before he rushed up the stairs.

"A Kneazel was just what we were missing. Cleaning the house will be so much easier after he takes care of all those vermin!"

"He is only a half-blooded Kneazle," Hermione corrected him worriedly. "Won't those pests be dangerous to him?"

"Taking care of magical pests is the only reason to breed Kneazle. If they could not do that, nobody would care for them," Remus informed her. "But Kneazles are especially hardheaded, which is the main reason why they are crossed with cats. That way they are a little less unbearable."

"Well whatever the non-Kneazle half was, it was not a cat." Sirius commented when he heard the commotion Crookshanks produced on the floor with the drawing room.

Hermione clearly planned to look after her pet. She already had a foot on the first step, but she hesitated and looked at Sirius: "What do you mean?"

"He is a little bit big for a half-cat and half-Kneazle crossbreed," Sirius answered cautiously.

"Maybe he is three quarter Kneazle?" Remus offered. "If one of his parents was a halfbreed he would be a three-quarter-Kneazle."

"Well that would be a possibility," Sirius conceded. "But to be honest I was thinking about a lynx or something entirely different."

"All lynxes have short tails. Crookshanks' tail is especially long and bushy," Hermione objected. Since the creature of her interest had come back into her line of sight, she did not bother to climb after him.

"Well maybe it was another species?" Sirius offered.

"And which one?" Hermione huffed. "There are not even lynx on the British Isles. Are you suggesting Crookshanks is a half-Bengal-tiger?"

"I don't know," Sirius gave in. "Maybe I am wrong. Maybe Remus is right and he is a three-quarter Kneazle. All I want to say is that I think he is more than just an ordinary half-Kneazle."

Hermione frowned. "Maybe your guess could be right." She thought back to the day when she had bought him. The sales-witch had said something: "When I bought him, he had been in the Magical Menagerie for a long time. The witch even seemed surprised when he allowed me to touch him." And that was Hermione's parting comment. She once more started climbing the stairs since she had correctly deduced that Crookshanks was now in search of a place to sleep at.

That left two Marauders in the entrance hall. Sirius shot a questioning look at his old friend. Something was obviously bothering him: "What's the matter?"

"Complications," his friend sighed.

"What kind of complications?"

"I only want to tell the story once," Remus grumbled, disgruntled. "Let's follow Hermione." The two of them climbed the stairs to the floor housing the library. They stood silently in front of Hermione's door, which naturally lay opposite to the entry of said library. Remus invested a moment to steel himself.

His knock was answered: "Come in." Hermione sat on her bed, petting her tame magical beast. She looked expectantly at Remus.

"Here are Harry's possessions." Remus pulled Harry's miniaturized trunk from his pocket. He placed it on the floor and enlarged it until it had the right size.

"Is everything in there?" Hermione gestured for the two men to take a seat on the two stools at her desk.

"I did not check everything," Remus admitted. "But I definitely got the invisibility cloak. I had to request Minerva to go and fetch it. She didn't tell me which of Harry's dorm mates wanted it as a reminder of him."

"It was certainly Ron," Hermione deduced clinically. "The others did not even know of its existence."

"I left the Marauder's Map behind," Remus confessed. "I thought it would be of little use to you anyway and that his other friends would need something too, to remind them of him."

Contrary to what Remus had thought, that did not sit well with Hermione, she barked at him: "That is what memories are for!" With a startled hiss, Crookshanks left her lap. "I don't need this stuff for myself. I need it for Harry's child! I want the baby to have something to connect to Harry. And that map is the last connection to Harry's father, too!"

"I am sorry, I didn't know," Remus tried to apologize.

"Why did you think I gave you a list?" Hermione growled. She stalked over to the trunk and threw its lid open. "Did you at least bring his Quidditch pullover?" She started digging, then remembered she was a witch. She took a step backwards and ordered with her wand in hand: "Accio Harry's Quidditch pullover."

Luckily for Remus, it flew into her hands. She was visibly enraged. "I will check the rest later!" she snapped at the werewolf. "It's bad enough that his wand and broom are missing! Even his glasses ..." Hermione choked and turned away so the men would not see her sudden grief.

Sirius shot Remus a look shaking his head warningly, when the man wanted to rise.

Crookshanks returned. He rubbed his side along her legs, offering comfort to his mistress. Hesitating only momentarily, Hermione bent down and picked the half-or-whatever-Kneazle up. She held him for a while before she finally returned to sitting on her bed. Once she had gathered her composure and wiped some tears away, she looked up again.

"What did Dumbledore do?" The change of topic was rather obvious, but both men wisely choose to not comment on it.

"Nothing unexpected," replied Remus. "He got instantly curious who the Regent of House Potter is. But neither did I tell him nor did he come to the right conclusion. He tried to cast doubt on the whole matter, but in the end he gave in. As expected, he could not challenge the certificate we got from the goblins."

"I am sure he will question the goblins on that point," Sirius added his opinion.

"And I am sure the goblins won't tell him anything," Remus said confidently. "If he comes to them asking about information they are helping to hide, he will find them most uncooperative."

"When has Dumbledore ever gone directly after anything?" Sirius countered.

"We have talked this over before," Hermione broke the impending discussion off. She could not withstand the opportunity to give a small explanation. "He can search for leads in the archives of the ministry and maybe he will even find a relative of Harry's grandfather, who could claim the title of House Potter, if it was not for my child. Whatever he does, is of no matter, because he could only track my involvement through Gringotts."

"If he had a confidant in the Bank, he could find out rather easily," Sirius argued, not giving up.

"Even if he has a confidant in the ranks of the bank, I doubt that anyone could take a look at any document just because he would like to. That is not how a bureaucracy works," Hermione stated.

"My experience with bureaucracy is that you just need to fill out the right form," was Sirius answer for this.

"That only works if you forget a pouch of Galleons on the clerk's desk," Remus remarked.

"See? It works!" Sirius triumphed.

"If Dumbledore had the Galleons..." Remus said serenely.

"Let's not get derailed by this" Hermione demanded. "I choose this path because it held the most promise at the least risks. There is nothing we can change about it now."

"I am just pointing out the weak spot," Sirius said.

"I understand," Hermione gave in. "But I would like to get back to the report."

Once more the center of attention, Remus recounted the rest of the meeting: "I made the accusation just as planned. I told him he should prove me wrong about him caring for Harry, again, just as planned. And before I left I delivered the letter from the solicitor..."

"... just as planned," Sirius finished for his friend.

Hermione nodded. "As I understand it, you did not get Harry's stuff from Dumbledore but from Professor McGonagall?"

"She was Harry's Head of House, so she was the one tasked with caring for his property," Remus started to explain.

"I would have expected the headmaster to take care of that, but I guess it makes sense, that he would not," Hermione conceded with a frown. She looked through the now clean window of her room. Outside, classically depressing weather reigned - winds and gray clouds.

Sirius recognized the unspoken dismissal and began to rise. When Remus made no move to follow, he looked to his friend inquisitively.

"There is another thing," Remus began.

"Another thing?" Hermione asked curiously.

"There was an imposter at Hogwarts," The werewolf continued. "He left the same day you did. They do not know who he was, but he had been impersonating Moody since the start of the term."

"How is that even possible?" asked Hermione sharply. Her brown eyes were blazing at Remus as if he personally was at fault.

For the second time in just one day Remus raised his empty hands to placate an irate witch – when had he taken over Sirius job? "He had a trunk of flasks filled with polyjuice. It is a potion that allows the drinker to transform –"

"Don't be ridiculous!" Hermione interrupted her former professor. "I know what polyjuice is. I brewed a batch of it in second year! But how did nobody notice? Malfoy grew suspicious of Harry and Ron after a few minutes!"

"I am not sure I understand what you are talking about," Remus said, confused.

"It is a long story, let's not get sidetracked!" Hermione made a sharp gesture with her right hand. Crookshanks once more choose to leave the lap of his witch. "How is it possible that Moody could be impersonated in a believable manner? It is not like nobody knew him. Even Ron had heard of him!"

"We know him too." Sirius offered. "We fought together against Voldemort."

"Frankly: They do not even understand how Moody could be captured," Remus offered. "He was the very best auror of the ministry."

"And he was completely paranoid," Sirius added. "I can't imagine anybody sneaking up on him or being able to overpower him and capture him alive. He would have fought and he would never have surrendered."

"Never," Remus agreed.

"So it boils down that they don't know?" Hermione hissed. "What leads do they have on the imposter?"

"I don't think they have any," Remus reported.

"What! How is that possible?" Hermione loomed angrily in front of Remus, as if to take him into responsibility. "He needed an enormous quantity of polyjuice! You can't find those ingredients in someone's backyard. And he ought to have left traces in the castle. There can't be no clues! He would have untransformed during the night. Did they not check for hairs on his pillow?"

"They are not really searching for him." Remus revealed gravely.

Hermione blinked, perplexed. "Pardon me?"

"Fudge and Dumbledore choose to brush the whole affair under the rug."

That got Hermione going once more. "How can they do that? They are giving Harry's murderer a damn free pass!" The witch paced frantically in front of the two wizards gesturing with her arms threateningly. "They are not even searching for him! The nerve of them!"

"Maybe it is their strategy?" Sirius offered before Hermione got the idea to finally aim her wand at anything or anyone. "I mean, think about it: Maybe they got a good trace? Maybe they even know who did it but they are not searching him in the open because they want the imposter to feel safe and go back to his house where the aurors prepared an ambush on him? Or maybe they will capture him in front of Gringotts?"

Hermione bit her bottom lip. "Maybe ..." she conceded. If they found a single hair, they could use polyjuice to identify the imposter. Then it would be a simple matter of waiting.

Sirius clapped his hands. "Well if that was all!" He rose with the intention of bringing maybe a floor or at least some walls between Hermione and himself. After the way she had cursed a few Pixies the previous day, he didn't want to be anywhere near her in this mood.

Remus pulled an unhappy face. "Not quite."

"What else?" Sirius groaned. He sunk back into his chair.

"Minerva was worried about Hermione."

"Understandable," Sirius commented. "Since when do you call her Minerva?"

"Minerva – and I was her colleague – was asking me, if I had any idea, where Hermione could be hiding." Remus offered hesitantly.

"Don't tell me you answered her!" the witch in question snapped. "You signed a contract! You would lose… are you mad?"

"Of course I didn't tell her!" Remus answered testily. "But I was not as worried as I should have been. And before I knew it, she added everything up. She has a pretty good idea that you are the regent."

"That can't be true!" Hermione shook her head, disbelieving that could have happened.

"It is," Remus said, really not happy either. He was looking straight at Hermione.

"She will tell Dumbledore!" Hermione's anger was once more boiling.

"Minerva demands a handwritten letter from you for her own benefit and that of the other students, so they don't have to worry over you. I think if you play you cards right, you could convince her to keep your secret," Remus told the witch. "She is really not happy with Dumbledore or anybody at the ministry."

"You think she would keep it secret?" Sirius asked uncertainly.

"First of all, she thought Hermione was taken by the imposter," Remus answered his friend before looking back to the young woman: "So she did really worry over you. She thought you were dead." Remus could not bring himself to add the two little words of: or worse.

"I had not thought of that," Hermione confessed reluctantly. She frowned. "How should I? I did not know of the imposter!"

"Minerva said your bed would be ready upon your return," Remus told her, trying to divert her attention. "She even suggested switching schools. And if you choose to do so, she offered to write a letter of recommendation."

The last of Hermione's anger deflated upon the unmistakable care the Head of Gryffindor showed for her. She sat on her bed. "Okay, I will write to her." After thoroughly biting her bottom lip she questioned: "Has she said anything beside the things you already told me?"

"She set a deadline of a week for your letter," Remus answered and leaned back into his chair in a way that said he was finally finished.

"I will write a letter to her." Hermione massaged her temples, once more working on her lip. "And a separate one for the eyes of the Gryffindors and even the rest of the school."

Remus and Sirius rose from their chairs. When they left Hermione to the solitude of her room, they heard her mumble: "As if those fickle, two-faced children even care!"

* * *

A/N: I would like to thank a guest-reviewer, who pointed out that it is impossible to force an abortion on a minor in the UK against her will. I have made a minor change to chapter 4, which will hopefully clarify that the abortion would have been by magical means and carried out under the laws of the magical world, not the muggle world.


	7. Hiring Winky

Hiring Winky

* * *

Dobby had already been working for two weeks when Hermione once again came to the conclusion that it would still take months to clean out Grimmauld Place. House Elves were by far not as powerful as the witch had initially thought.

At least Crookshanks was taking care of the magical pests, which was a huge advancement over the state the house had fallen into before his arrival. A lot of the little vermin had started to roam, fighting outright battles over territory recently freed of other creatures.

Once more a solution for at least one of Hermione's numerous problems seemed to stand on inhuman feet in front of her. She on the other hand was sitting in her favorite armchair, her back to a window. Unlike most of the other windows in the Most Ancient House of Black, this one was not as dirty as the day they had arrived. With a tone as neutral as she could muster, she asked: "Dobby told me you want to be part of a family once more?"

"Yes Winky wants that!" exclaimed the small elf, her head nodding eagerly.

Hermione thought two elves would at least be twice as fast at cleaning, but she did not say that. "But nobody wants you, because you have been cast out with clothes?" It was a little bit cruel to point this out, but she deemed it necessary.

"Nobody will take an elf in who is bad! Winky is bad!" Thick tears were rolling down the little face. When Winky looked up, she remembered why she was there. Somebody had been willing to give Dobby a second chance even though he deserved none. Maybe she would get one too? She wiped her tears away.

"I am pregnant. And I find myself in need of another elf." The words were like powerful magic to Winky. Her face lightened in the blink of an eye.

"Really? Winky cannot see the signs. But Winky believes Mistress!" the little creature said nodding her head devotedly.

"You would like to be an elf of the family I will start?" Hermione inquired.

"Winky loves to be part of a family once more!" After a short moment of thinking she added: "Mistress' especially!"

Hermione took notice of Winky's eagerness. "Tell me, what do you think of muggles?"

The sudden change of subject perplexed the elf. At first her mouth hung open, then it moved as if to accompany the thoughts in her head. Finally she settled for a pleading question: "Winky does not know?"

"Why not?" If it had not been so important, Hermione would have felt pity for the elf.

The little creature wrung her small hands. "Nobody tells Winky what to think..."

"I am muggleborn. Do you know what that means?"

"Mistress' parents are muggles!" Winky exclaimed instantly. She was obviously happy because she once more managed to answer a question.

"That is right," Hermione conceded with a nod. "Do you still want to become my elf?"

"Yes! Winky wants to be Mistress' elf!"

"Like I said, I need an elf," Hermione repeated, and saw that Winky was close to bursting with enthusiasm. "But I don't want to share my elf with her former family."

It was mind blowing how fast the elf could go from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows. Thick tears ran over her cheeks. "Winky has no family."

"Is that so?" Hermione mused, watching Winky's vigorous nodding. "Bartemius Crouch is a man. A single man. He has cast you away. He is no longer your family. Is that true?"

Confronted with the name of her former Master Winky hesitated for a moment before she once more resumed her nodding.

"Nodding your head is not enough. Say it." Hermione demanded.

Winky gulped but did not hesitate otherwise. "It is true."

"So you are free to serve me and my family and only my family?" Hermione proceeded with her interrogation.

Winky's head snapped upwards. She was still crying, but somehow she had a happy look on her face. "Yes, Winky is free to serve Mistress and only Mistress!"

"Do you want to?" Hermione asked.

"Yes Winky wants that!" The little elf was shaking with anticipation.

"Do you want to prove it?" was the next question in Hermione's plan.

"Yes! Winky wants to prove it!" She was once more excited beyond anything reasonable.

"Can you imagine a way you could prove it?" Hermione once more delayed.

Winky's answer was instantaneous: "With work!"

"That would be expected of you anyway. That is no proof," Hermione explained distantly.

Once more Winky fell silent. Her eyes were pleading but only after she requested what she could do Hermione would finally tell her. "How can Winky prove?"

Hermione folded her hands and leaned forward intently looking at the elf. "I would accept the secrets of Bartemius Crouch as proof."

Winky gasped in shock. "Winky cannot tell the secret of her family!" She shook her head so vigorously that her ears flapped back and forth.

"But he is no longer your family," Hermione reminded the elf. "I would be your family. My child would be your family. Our secrets should be kept safe by you. Nobody else's!"

This was not only the most complicated declaration so far, but there was also a decision to make. Hermione gave the elf all the time she needed to think it over. And Winky was in need of the offered time. Hermione could read the elf's thoughts on her face and it was a struggle before she finally came to a conclusion: "After being elf of Granger family, Winky tells secrets of Bartemius Crouch."

Since she had been aiming for exactly this, Hermiones answered without hesitation: "I think that is fair. What do you think?"

"Winky thinks the same," the elf agreed immediately.

"Once you become my elf, I could never cast you away, or you could tell all my secrets. You would have to stay part of my family till you are dead," Hermione fake-mused.

Once more the elf was watched while thinking. Finally the penny dropped. With the brightest smile one could imagine, she said: "Yes!"

"So you will tell me all of Bartemius Crouch's secrets. So I know that you only belong to my family," Hermione wrapped the conversation up.

"That is right!" exclaimed Winky happily. "Is Winky making oath now?"

"Do you want to take the oath now?"

"Yes!" The elf burst out: "Winky wants to take the oath!"

"Then I shall receive it."

Hermione held her wand at the height of Winkys chest. In the traditional show of submission the elf stepped in front of the wand. She stretched her little hand and touched its tip. "Winky swears to serve Hermione Jean Granger first. Winky swears to serve all her family second. Winky swears to serve all she is told to at last."

"Hanc servam accipio!" was the human woman's responding invocation to complete their magical agreement. The tip of her wand started to glow with a warm yellow light. Winky looked as happy as only an elf could. No human face could have shown that much glee. Starting at her hand the amber light flowed around Winky like honey, engulfing her completely before sinking into her skin. In response, a tickle ran over Hermione's skin.

Winky let go of Hermione's wand and stepped back.

Remembering her promise, the elf asked: "What does Mistress want to know about Bartemius Crouch?"

Hermione blinked. "I found a book in the library which should be kept secret from anyone but those of pure Black blood. It contains spells that should supposedly only be known to the family of Black. Does the family of Crouch have something similar?"

"No. Crouch family has no secret magic and no secret books," Winky answered truthfully.

"Pity," Hermione commented and tried to think of what she could ask next. "Does Mr. Couch have a hidden house?"

"No. Crouch family lives in house everybody can visit."

Hermione messed her hair up, while rubbing her temples. Her options for questions were limited. She had been present when Winky was freed at the World Cup. What she was interested in happened months later. "Did you look after Mr. Crouch, whenever he entered Hogwarts, out of curiosity or in hope of being taken in once again?"

"Both!" Winky gasped. Her eyes were as huge as saucers.

"So you could detect him somehow and were able to watch him?" Hermione requested.

"Only Mr. Crouch broke vow. Elfish magic is still active then," Winky revealed.

"Can you still find him?"

"No. Winky is now Grangers' elf!" Winky answered happily.

"Did Mr. Crouch put Harry's name into the Goblet of Fire?" Hermione was really hoping for useful answers.

"No." Winky's ears flapped as she shook her head.

"Does he know, who did it?"

"No."

It was a wild idea but asking would not hurt: "Do you know?"

"No."

Somewhat sobered from her recent hope, Hermione just filled the silence with words: "What did he think about Harry's participation?"

"Mr. Crouch is very angry!" Winky announced firmly. "He thinks someone is putting Harry Potter's name into the Goblet."

"He did not believe that Harry entered his own name?"

"No. Winky knows that Mr. Crouch respects Mr. Dumbledore. Mr. Dumbledore says that Harry Potter did not enter himself, so Mr. Crouch believes Harry Potter is not entering himself."

"I see." Hermione bit on her bottom lip. "So he trusts Dumbledore?"

"Yes. Everybody does."

This was becoming more frustrating by the minute to Hermione, but she was too stubborn to stop her questioning before finding at least something. "What did Mr. Crouch hope to achieve with the Triwizard Tournament?"

"He works for the ministry and organizes everything," Winky explained.

"Yes, I know," Hermione grumbled. "But did Mr. Crouch have a secret plan for the Tournament?"

"Secret Plan?" Winky wondered. "He is doing what he is told to. Organizing everything."

"Does Mr. Crouch not hope for a promotion? Surely organizing the Triwizard Tournament would have cast a positive light on him!" Hermione was close to arguing with her new elf.

"Mr. Crouch does his job. That is the most important thing for him." Winky said that in a way that made it quite clear that she too thought there was nothing more important than doing one's job.

"Does the Crouch family even have one single secret?" Hermione asked, unnerved.

"Crouch family has big secret!" Winky gasped over her own forwardness.

"What is it?" Hermione requested eagerly.

With quivering lips Winky said: "Bartemius Crouch Junior is not dead."

Hermione leaned backwards. Her eyes were wide. "Who is Bartemius Crouch Junior?" She had never heard of Mr. Crouch having a son.

"He is Mr. Bartemius Crouch Senior's son," Winky said, as if that was not patently evident given their shared name and the suffix 'junior.'

"And everybody believes him to be dead?" Hermione asked, nonplussed.

"Yes, everybody thinks he is dying in Azkaban," Winky offered helpfully. It was obviously becoming easier for her to answer these questions now that she had made the decision to do so.

This was a good thing, because Hermione was growing frustrated, gaining information that introduced more questions than it answered. "Winky, just tell me the whole story!"

At this point Winky had completely accepted her new role. She thought Hermione was right to demand answers while she did well on providing them. So she told the whole story, beginning at the day when Barty Junior was captured with some other Death Eaters who had attacked the Longbottoms. The elf brushed over the trial in which the father had been judge and found his son guilty. One day the fatally ill mother had said goodbye and left. And the son had returned. "Mr. Crouch is putting Mr. Barty under control with spell," Winky concluded.

"The Imperius Curse?" Hermione asked, alarmed.

"Yes that one!" The little elf confirmed. "Winky hears it sometimes."

This situation was like a fable on what was right and what was wrong. But Hermione had no idea about the conclusion. On the one hand they were a family, but on the other they disregarded the law. And Barty was apparently a dangerous criminal, but did that make it okay to put him under the Imperius Curse? Hermione was torn. "When did Mrs. Crouch leave and when did Barty return?"

"On the same day."

"Which year?" It was as if Winky wanted to make it complicated.

"1981."

"What happened afterwards?"

"Mr. Barty is not being allowed to leave the house. He is always to hide under invisible cloak. Winky takes care of Mr. Barty just as Mr. Crouch had tells her to do," the elf related. Obviously she had not found the situation complicated at all. "Mr. Barty is being good and so Winky asks for rewards for him. Sometimes Mr. Crouch says yes. Sometimes Mr. Barty is even being allowed to go outside for a few hours. The day of the Worldycup is one of those days. Mr. Barty is sitting next to Winky under the invisible cloak and watching the whole game. But when the game is over he runs away. Winky finds him in forest. And then Mr. Crouch gives Winky clothes."

"It was Barty who cast the Dark Mark!" Hermione raged.

Winky stumbled backwards. She was surprised at facing the irate witch. Her eyes were big and fearful. "Winky is sorry!"

Hermione looked down on the elf she was towering over. Only then did she register that she was no longer sitting in her armchair. "Tell me exactly: When did you notice Barty's absence?"

Winky was very eager to answer: "Winky is noticing in the tent. One moment everyone is happy and the next there is screams. Lots of screams!"

"A group of Death Eaters were abusing a muggle family." Hermione remembered the day very well.

"Winky looks outside, but Winky cannot see. Winky is too small. Winky goes back into tent. Mr. Barty is still hidden under invisible cloak. And then Mr. Barty is gone. Winky tries to listen for voice of family, but Mr. Barty says nothing. Winky tries to tell Mr. Crouch, but Mr. Crouch does not listen. Finally Mr. Barty says word. He makes the bad mark appear! Winky goes to him. Many wizards appear. Everyone screams. And then Winky gets clothes."

Silently sitting in her armchair Hermione tried to piece together what she had just been told by her new house elf. Thanks to her own recollection of the night, she could fill the obvious gaps. She had known what had happened in the woods at the Quidditch world cup. But now that she finally knew of the full story she was not sure if she should be angry or relieved.

Since nothing better came to her mind Hermione asked: "So Mr. Crouch has been hiding his imperiused Death Eater son at home for thirteen years?"

"Yes." Winky was wringing her hands reluctantly.

"You knew Bartemius Couch junior was evil?"

Winky whimpered in grief. "Winky is knowing. Barty is bad."

"But you served him nonetheless?"

"Barty is being family then. Winky must to do anything for family!" the elf whined, closely resembling a beaten dog.

It was only that sound that made Hermione once more aware of her temper. She had snarled at the elf accidentally. Maybe she should take the time to think everything over. For now it was time to get back to business. They still had to discuss the terms of the elf's employment, after all – regardless of the vow, she was not about to own a slave. She just had to convince the elf of that. She calmed herself with a great effort and turned her mind to the matter of her servant's uniform, resolving to consider the matter of Bartemius Crouch Junior later.


	8. Correspondence

Correspondence

* * *

The numerous wards and spells on 12 Grimmauld Place had their advantages. Not only did they turn the house into a first rate hiding place, but at the same time, they allowed Hermione to practice magic. There were some other bonuses too.

One of them was enchanted windows, which could be made to open magically for certain owls. This could be done by simply attaching one of their feathers to the frame. It was quite obvious that Hedwig liked this as much as the fact that she no longer had to return into her cage. A squeak of said window announced her return. The owl flew an elegant circle around the room before landing on the table right in front of Hermione.

"Another letter?" The witch wondered with a raised eyebrow. She stretched her arm to pet the owl. "Who is it from?"

Hedwig's screech might have been able to tell Harry what the clever bird wanted to say, but for Hermione it was not enough: she had to look at the letter tied to the owl's leg.

"Neville … again," she murmured to the animal. The boy was certainly the most Hufflepuffish of all Gryffindors. Writing diligently to her even months after she had left the school did fit his personality. "Well let's see what he's written."

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _I am not sure when you will receive this letter. Maybe you know half of it already out of the Daily Prophet. If that is the case, please forgive my useless note. Today was the day of the second task..._

Although Neville had written her in the evening and Hedwig had not lingered, Hermione was already aware what had happened, as it had indeed been in the morning paper. She only skimmed the description. This task sounded far tamer than the first one. In principle the champions only had had to dive into a lake. No messing around with a magic immune top predator.

 _I hope you are feeling well. Here at Hogwarts we had an outbreak of the common cold. A lot of us are running around red-nosed and coughing. So far I was spared. I think it is thanks to the potion I made out of some leaves from the greenhouses. Can you imagine me brewing a potion? I know you could have pulled it off with ease, but I am rather proud of this accomplishment. Professor Snape has seen what I have done, and he compared brewing the potion to making a cup of tea._

Hermione thought that comment did fit Professor Snape's personality perfectly. Like always Neville finished his letter with a list of all spells and themes they had worked on in the short period since his previous letter. She compared the list to the outline of her own track record. She found that Professor Sprout had skipped ahead in the book accompanying her course, but since Herbology was a problematic matter without the actual plants, Hermione was only slightly more troubled at this news.

The truth was, she was falling behind in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures. Both classes had a practical component which she could not complete in her current situation. Otherwise she was ahead in the curriculum. Charms, Defense and Arithmancy especially came easy to her, and she did study more unrelated topics out of the library than she ever had in Hogwarts.

"I will answer Neville later," Hermione told the owl. "In the meantime could you check if the solicitor left me some news in my postal box at Gringotts, please?"

Hedwig dipped her head positively and left on silent wings.

* * *

A/N: Chapters of regular(?) length will resume on the next update.


	9. Medical checkup

Medical checkup

* * *

There was no denial about Grimmauld Place. It was a rundown street in a rundown part of the city. Abandoned by economy and consequently forgotten by the government, it was a place for those people at the bottom of society.

When Hermione pulled the door closed behind her, she could already see that today would be as usual. The same delinquents lingered at the park bench. She had to pass them whenever she went to the bus station. They were annoying, and not only because they were smoking cigarettes and spoke louder than would have been necessary.

In a way, Hermione thought, she belonged here with them. Not only had she left school, but she was a pregnant teen, a stereotype that most people looked down on as much as those bullies. She didn't even know why they were harassing her. She was none of the things they called her. She was neither cute nor hot, and she was absolutely not a fine piece of something!

The first time they had met, the group had tried to block her way. It was a one-time thing. Hermione just explained them in an overly friendly manner that her hand was far too small to hold the leash if her big black dog chose to attack them.

"Hey, babe what's up?" one of them called as soon he noticed her.

Hermione huffed indignantly and pulled at Sirius' leash, ignoring the boys as well as she could.

"Why don't you sit with us?" another one asked and freed a space on the bench next to him by pushing his friend off the end.

Naturally, the guy on the pavement was outraged and littered him with insults. Hermione ignored them both pointedly. In a fashion of goodbye one of the boys whistled lewdly at her.

One bus and one tube ride later Hermione reached her platform. For the last time she checked her handbag for all the things she needed and those she wanted to take onto the train. Even if it would cost her close to an hour, it would be better to go back to the house now than having to correct her mistake at a later point of time. Everything (and especially her wand) were in place, so she boarded.

Patiently, she searched an empty compartment for herself. She found herself lucky. She took the seat at the window backing the engine. Sirius lay down. His massive black body occupied nearly all of the floor between the two opposing benches. Nowadays she felt mostly sad when thinking of Harry. She missed her best friend miserably. His absence was stronger here on the train than it had been at Grimmauld Place. Riding a train had been one of those things they had done together.

At least Sirius' presence drove away anybody who wanted to take a seat. He did not even have to growl to scare the people off. When the train jerked into motion Hermione opened her purse. Hedwig had collected a fresh batch of letters from the magical post office in Diagon Alley, and Hermione had decided to address her correspondence as she waited to arrive.

She started with the official one from her solicitor. The long text revealed barely any good news. Another report had been ordered. So far they had numerous memoranda from different bureaus of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, a few tracts of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and a single statement of the Department of Magical Games and Sports which claimed they were the last to be held responsible for anything.

Obviously everybody was trying to save their own necks. So far it was working. At the moment, the Ministry stood united. But with the amount of paperwork produced, it was becoming more and more difficult to dodge the blame. Soon enough somebody would fail. If they got a small edge on somebody, hat person would be more than unwilling to be the only one under persecution. He would want to push somebody else in front of the rampaging Hippogriff. And in the end the organizers of the Triwizard Tournament would be under prosecution. It was just a question of time and money.

Next was yet another letter from Neville. By now he was the only one of her former peers Hermione was still writing to. She choose to keep his note for the end. When she skimmed the rest of the batch, McGonagall's neat handwriting caught her eye.

Hermione unfolded her former professor's parchment. The deputy headmistress had not given up on luring her favorite student back into school. Most of this letter centered on her field of expertise. Hermione had previously requested some clarifications on an alternate approach to Transfiguration, which she had read about in the Black's library.

An hour into her journey, Hermione took a box out of her handbag and checked its contents. Obviously Dobby had prepared a shepherd's pie for her. Hermione closed the box put it away and searched what else the two elves had made for her just to find a fork and dig once more for the pie.

Musing that her pregnancy started to control her appetite Hermione ate the whole portion. "Don't look at me like that." she grumbled at Sirius. After she fed him a sandwich he allowed her to rest in peace.

It took another hour for the train to enter Hermione's home town. She strolled through the small train station. She had only been here on one occasion, when her class had made a day trip to London.

Once more using public transport, she made her way to the doctor's office.

The pudgy receptionist pulled a face upon seeing the huge dog entering. Her greeting was fittingly indignant: "You've got an appointment?"

"Indeed I have," Hermione declared lifting one irked eyebrow.

"Name?" the woman asked tersely.

"Julia Jackson." Hermione answered.

The receptionist made a big show of running her finger over the appointments of the day. "Yes here you are. Eleven o'clock. Is it the first time you are here?" she asked in insincere kindness.

"No. I have been here before." Hermione tried to imitate her mother, when she was running out of patience. And she found her attempt quite acceptable.

For the first time that day the receptionist was thrown out of her air of superiority. "Really?"

"Doctor Spencer has my records." Hermione informed the receptionist uncaringly.

"Oh! You know Doctor Spencer?" the woman asked suddenly far friendlier. "Why did you not say so?"

"My mother was here when she was pregnant." Hermione noticed that she sounded like Draco when he bragged about his fortune, but she did not care. This woman deserved contact with as many Dracos as possible. "As far as I understand they also shared a number of courses at university."

"Well please take a seat. I will inform you when Doctor Spencer is free for you." The receptionist stood up and led Hermione over to the waiting area. And she actually took Hermione's coat to place it in the wardrobe for her.

"Thank you," Hermione commented tersely. All the while Sirius was looking warily from one woman to the other.

"A pleasure," answered the receptionist, and returned to her work station to try to appear occupied. She shuffled papers and opened drawers full of documents.

Half an hour later, Hermione's fake name was not announced. The receptionist came over to her and informed her: "Doctor Spencer would like to see you."

"Thank you." Hermione answered and allowed the woman to lead her over to the doctor's office. She went as far as holding the door open for the family friend of her boss. Sirius had to stay behind.

Dr. Spencer was a woman of the same age as Hermione's own mother. She wore her blond hair in an organized curly fashion and at shoulder length. At the moment her hair had fallen forwards and hid a lot of her face since she was bent over some document, which boxes she filled. In summer Hermione had considered to cut her hair to exactly that length. But her mother had always loved her long full hair and therefor she had stepped back on that decision. "Hello, please take a seat." Dr. Spencer said without looking up. "Since you are here for the first time we need to fill in this form."

Hermione took the seat opposing the desk. "Hi, I am sorry for the wrong name. This is not the first time I am here."

Dr. Spencer head lifted instantly upon the sound of her voice. "Hermione!" She exclaimed surprised and started bombarding her: "Where have you been? Your parents worry over you! They told me you have run away from your boarding school! What were you thinking? Where did you come from?"

Whether Dr. Spencer stopped talking because she was out of air or because she expected answers was not completely clear, but Hermione responded anyway: "I will not tell you. I know. That is true. And I am sorry but as things are at the moment I've got little choice. I can't tell you."

"What are you talking about?" The doctor blinked bewildered. She had obviously not noticed that Hermione had just answered all her questions. "Never mind I will call your parents. They will be so relieved." Dr. Spencer lifted the handset of her telephone. Her fingers hit the buttons on her phone in quick succession.

Hermione held down the hook, ending the call. "No, you will not."

"Hermione that is not funny!" exclaimed Dr. Spencer.

"I can assure you that I am not here for any form of amusement," was Hermione's dry remark.

"What do you mean?" the older woman asked confused.

"I am pregnant." Hermione announced with fitting sobriety. "And I want to keep my child. I have come here for your medical services."

Dr. Spencer was shocked: "Hermione! You are only fifteen!"

"Thank you for reminding me. I nearly forgot," Hermione retorted sarcastically.

"I will call your parents, they have to know." Once more a number was dialed.

Once more Hermione blocked the telephone line.

"Will you stop that?!" Dr. Spencer snapped irately.

One of Hermione's brows lifted at a glacial pace. "Only if you stop trying to call my parents."

"Hermione you are only fifteen," was pressed out between clenched teeth. Perfectly white teeth - just as one would expect from the best friend of a dentist. "Your parents should be here with you."

"I understand where you are coming from," Hermione gave a curt nod. "But I already know that I disagree with my parents about this. They want me to undergo an abortion. They think I am ruining my life with this decision. But I am not giving in."

The older woman massaged a spot above her brow. Her next words were spoken very carefully: "I don't think you can conceive the consequences of your decision."

"I understand that this," Hermiones hand dropped to her belly, "will change everything. In a way my parents are right. My life will derail from the course I have taken so far. But even with an abortion there is no chance I could live on as I have before. Being a mother is nothing I wanted at this point of my life. Everything has changed and this child may be the only hope left for me. I will not abandon this chance."

"Hermione," Dr. Spencer's voice was pleading now. "A child is not a commitment to be taken lightly. It will change everything. It will need you each and every day. And I am not talking about a few hours you will have to invest. I am talking about rearranging literary everything."

"I know. I have already started to make arrangements." Hermione answered determinedly.

"Is this because your mother had a hard time getting pregnant?" the gynecologist asked suddenly. "Hermione I can assure you, you will not have a hint of a problem for more than a decade. Ah! What am I talking about? One and a half decades. You have enough time. Please reconsider this. You should at least finish school!"

Hermione was only able to sigh, before the woman she saw as a sort of aunt angled her arguments in another direction: "Is this about your boyfriend? I am sure your boyfriend will be happy if you get pregnant again in, let's say three years?"

"The father is dead," Hermione stated.

"A single mother to boot?" The other woman groaned. "Hermione you have no idea how hard it is to take care of a child alone and support yourself. You are doing nobody a favor with this."

"At least money won't be a problem," Hermione announced to her conversational partner's immense surprise. "He left me his fortune. And before you can wonder, I would also get it if I did an abortion. He had nobody else."

This revelation did close to nothing to reassure Dr. Spencer. "Hermione, please listen to me. Listen to reason. I have literally known you since before you were born. And I know I am not as close to you as I am to my own daughter. But believe me, when I tell you, that I know your character pretty well." She took a deep breath, because she was going to say something, she did not like to say as an emancipated woman. "There are young women that are ready to have a child. They really want them more than anything else. Not necessarily because they come into a situation in which it is expected to get a child. It is the other way around. They create the situation to prepare for the child." And now came the hard part, she did not want to say: "You are not like them. You are another breed. I fear you will become unhappy if you become a mother at your current age."

"Superficially I have two options:" Hermione started her argumentation. She raise her left forefinger. "I can keep the child. Or" Here she raised the forefinger of her other hand. "I can go for an abortion." Hermione leaned forward staring intensely at the older woman: "But even if I did go for an abortion, there would be no way to return to the status quo before I got pregnant. All I could achieve would be wasting this opportunity."

Dr. Spencer groaned and started to shake her head at the same time.

"As I see it," Hermione continued with raised voice. "I can waste this chance for no gain at all or I can make a leap of faith. I choose to hope for the very best."

"Those are not all your options. I know it seems to narrow down to these two. But you can change your life even if you accept the abortion. If you don't want to keep your life the way it was than change it! Go to another school. Maybe go abroad for a year? There are a lot of possibilities for you," Dr. Spencer told hopeful to convince the young woman. "You are really the cleverest girl I have ever met Hermione. You can do anything. Literally!"

"I have thought this over. And I've made my choice." The former student said determined.

"Hermione ..." Dr. Spencer tried once more, but she was cut of.

"I am here for a medical checkup. I have chosen to come here despite the inconveniences, because I trust you." After a moment of hesitation Hermione added. "And because I want to be close to my parents once an abortion is no longer available. I know I put a heavy dent in our relationship with this and I want to mend fences before the child arrives."

"Your mother should be here," Dr. Spencer protested halfheartedly.

"I know. But as we concluded, this option is not available at the moment. She could do to me what you fail at."

"I have to tell your parents." The gynecologist pleaded.

"If you tell my parents, they will try everything within their power to get hold of me. I will run away once more. And I will be hard pressed to trust another doctor," Hermione declared without uncertainty. It was unfair to put the older woman on the spot like this, but Hermione was sure in the end this would guarantee the best outcome. And that was all that mattered at the moment. So if she had to remind the doctor of medical confidentiality, she would do so.

Dr. Spencer was visibly shaken by those words.

It took several moments before Hermione's defiance melted away. "I am sorry. I should not have put you on the spot. I will try to find another doctor." The young woman rose from her chair.

"Please sit down Hermione." Dr. Spencer gave a huge sigh. "You mother is my best friend. She has been for decades. She trusted me with you. And now I don't want you to go somewhere else. I want to make sure everything is alright."

"I am sorry, to put you in this position. I really like you Auntie. I promise I will explain exactly to my parents that I only gave you the choice to either take medical care of me in secret or let me walk out of your door," the young woman rushed to say.

Dr Spencer sighed unhappily. She shreded the form she had previously worked on and threw the remains into her trash bin. Afterward she rose and started searching for the file with Hermione's name on it. After placing it on her desk she took a new form and added it to the other records. She filled the head of the document with Hermione's personal information. When she reached a point, where she finally needed her patient's collaboration, she asked: "How do you know that you are pregnant?"

Hermione hesitated slightly. "If I told you I could do magic and there is a spell to verify my condition, would you believe me?"

The woman stared at Hermione before she gave a short snort. "Certainly not." She huffed indignantly: "Magic! And a Granger pulled that one over me!"

"I just know," Hermione shrugged.

"Well, that happens sometimes," Dr. Spencer conceded. "But let's just write amenorrhea. When would your period have been?"

There was a surprising number of questions to answer before they finally came to the point at which they did the real checkup. The highlight was obviously the ultrasound scan which made a small, pulsing spot visible. Seeing the child's heartbeat sent a shiver over Hermione's skin.

When Hermione left, Sirius rushed to her side. Hermione made a big show of praising him for being a good dog. Finally, she turned to the receptionist and channeled her mother once more: "My pregnancy is a surprise. You better remember your commitment to discretion. I will know if you don't manage. In that case finding another job would be the least of your worries."

Sirius gave an accommodating bark. Both women looked at him, Hermione with a frown and the receptionist with a shudder.


	10. Who was the Imposter?

Who was the Imposter?

* * *

Hermione sat in her armchair, parchment in hand. Sirius occupied the opposing chair. It stood close to but not at her desk. Previously these meetings had been held in the girl's bedroom. Thanks to Hedwig and later Crookshanks, that had been the only room which no pest had ever dared to reenter after being expelled.

Entering the young woman's bedroom had been awkward for Sirius, which in itself had been a new experience. The wizard had always tried to get into witches' sleeping chambers, preferably together with said witches. But nowadays he feared to see discarded female undergarments (even though it was not in character for Hermione to leave things like that lying around). He was not even sure why he felt that way.

Sirius had thought hard about that. And he had a feasible explanation: The underwear could be a symbol. Maybe he feared on a subliminal level to feel sexual attraction to the young woman. He wanted desperately to establish a stable relationship with her. But so far all his relationships, which included sex, had been highly unstable.

In any case, now that the library was clean and habitable, Hermione spent most of her time surrounded by books, which meant that Sirius could happily forget his illogical fear, as he no longer had a reason to enter her room.

Alas, he disliked the library too. Although that was for a completely different reason. He felt a magical prickle on the inside of his skull whenever he entered. Obviously it was physically uncomfortable. He would have wondered, how Hermione could stand it, but he had a pretty good idea: the prickle could be described as the temptation of knowledge and Hermione was either immune or used to it. The prickle would fade, once the books had been thoroughly soaked in the witch's magical essence.

Some said that at the end of this process the magical individual would know where to find any answer the library could offer. Sirius thought that was esoteric nonsense. In his mind, by the time the prickle faded, Hermione would simply know where to look because she had opened and explored each book.

That process might take some time, however, because the witch was clearly not paying much attention to the books at the moment. Maybe Hermione felt betrayed by the world as a whole. Maybe the feeling of betrayal was restricted to the majority of persons she had ever got to know. Whichever was true on any given day was uncertain to Sirius. Absolutely clear to him, on the other hand, was that the circumstances of Harry's death were ruling the witch's life.

A huge pile of parchment testified how important and repetitive the topic was becoming. This particular discussion was as old as Winky's unwritten contract of employment. So far as Sirius was concerned, the information the elf had provided when becoming part of Hermione's family fit perfectly with what Remus had brought back from his visit to Hogwarts. And since it was so obvious he would really have liked to act.

Hermione looked over the edge of the parchment which outlined his suspicions. "This looks nearly like a pattern."

"It looks like a scheme because it is one," Sirius encouraged her.

"It's not all a single plan, though," Hermione objected. She placed the parchment in front of herself. Her index finger pointed at a line at its top. "The attack at the Quidditch stadium does not fit."

"Maybe it was his first attempt to kill Harry," Sirius repeated his guess.

When she shook her head vehemently, Hermione's hair moved around her shoulders. She brushed a stray out of her eyes and said: "No, it was not. We stumbled upon Barty in the middle of a forest. I was there and I am certain it was a coincidence. He was not aiming to kill Harry on that day. If that was his plan, he could have tried while we left the stadium. At that moment he had an invisibility cloak and Harry's wand. He could have hidden in the masses."

"Well then, it was a coincidence and he formulated his plan afterward. Maybe he thought he wasted his opportunity that night," Sirius offered.

"There was not enough time. The final was on the 25th of August. Barty had to break the Imperius Curse his father would surely have put him under before first of September. Something he only managed a single time in more than a decade," Hermione argued.

"Maybe he learned how to do it after his first successful attempt?"

The young woman frowned. "Fine let's assume for a moment he managed to do so on the 26th. He still needed to make the plan. A complicated plan. One that needs a lot of knowledge and significant preparation. That is nothing you pull off over the course of a few days."

"Maybe that was not that much of a problem for him." Sirius spoke up. "He could have known of the Triwizard Tournament through his father. Bartemius Sr. organized everything after all."

"That is not the part of the plan I am talking about. He could have made the whole Triwizard Tournament scheme up when he was at Hogwarts. I'm talking about the getting into Hogwarts part of the plan," Hermione clarified.

Sirius looked doubtful.

Taking advantage of the momentary silence Hermione went on: "Barty impersonated Moody from the first of September and onwards. He had to find out that Moody was the new assigned teacher for Defense against the Dark Arts," the witch started counting on her fingers. Sirius really despised it when she did that. "He had to find out where Moody lived. He had to attack him in his own home - something that would need preparation. He needed polyjuice potion to impersonate Moody. And he needed to know how to act while impersonating Moody."

All five fingers of Hermione's left hand were risen but Sirius was not out of arguments yet: "He could have heard from his father that Moody was assigned as professor."

"And the polyjuice potion was in the cupboard of his fathers kitchen," Hermione proposed sarcastically. "Brewing the potion needs a full month! He could not have done that in the available time."

"So what?" Sirius shrugged his shoulders. "He bought the potion."

Hermione gaped. "You can buy polyjuice potion? Where?"

"I would try Knockturn Alley," Sirius suggested, carefully keeping any sarcasm out of his own tone. "There aren't many illegal things you can't get there."

"Really? How can that be?" Hermione asked dumbfounded. "It is right next to Diagon Alley. Is no one checking there?"

"Well the ministry tries sometimes," Sirius explained. "But it is hard to catch someone doing something illegal in a place where everything is illegal."

"That makes no sense. At all." Hermione declared firmly.

Sirius sighed. "I mean… The shopkeepers in the Alley are prepared for anyone checking on them. They have crafty enchantments in place to hide their illegal goods."

"Fine!" Hermione huffed. "So he bought the polyjuice potion. He knew already Moody was going to be a professor from his father. And lets assume his father even told him where Moody lives, because I am sure, that is your next suggestion!" Hermione said reproachfully. "Do you think he could get into Moody's home and overwhelm the ex-Auror?"

Sirius answered without hesitation. "No. Moody is a force of nature. There is no way he could be beaten in a duel. Even Dumbledore would have a hard time doing so."

They both fell silent. After a few moments Hermione took a new parchment and started writing. Sirius watched her. The witch took notes as if they were in a classroom. Her handwriting was so flawless he could easily read it upside-down. First she listed the five problems Barty would have had to overcome in the seven days between the Quidditch final and the opening feast. Sirius' theories were put next to the problems Barty could have overcome.

The quill froze next to the point of overwhelming Moody. "What if he used polyjuice potion? If he had looked like his father, would Moody have let his guard down?"

Sirius considered before answering: "Moody never lets his guard down. Not completely. His reputation is well earned."

Hermione added a few words about Moody on her parchment. "Let's look at the last problem: Impersonating Moody. It is not that easy to fool somebody who knows the impersonated person. When Harry and Ron were disguised as Crabbe and Goyle, they were nearly unmasked by Draco." Hermione reminisced. "So Barty would have needed to know a lot of things. Not only how he would have to speak and move like Moody, but he would have also needed to know which people he was supposed to know and he would have needed knowledge of Moody's past." After staring at a set of fresh notes Hermione asked: "Can you think of anything else?"

"No, that seems to cover everything." Initially Sirius had thought Hermione was as clever as Lily. But he had been wrong. Hermione's mind was very different from the redhead he had known so long ago. She was far more organized.

"Did Mr. Crouch and Moody know each other?" Hermione questioned.

"To a certain extent." Sirius took a moment to poke his memory. "They were colleagues. But Moody barely mentioned him. And he tried to update all members of the Order as well as possible on every opponent we could face and on everyone regarded as friends alike."

Hermione nodded, creating another note. "So Moody and Mr. Crouch were acquaintances?"

"Bartemius Sr. was Moody's boss. But the two of them were very different." Sirius tried to brush the fog which was blurring his memory. "When Moody entered a room everybody feared he would hex someone. When Bartemius Sr. came in everyone feared he would bury them in bureaucracy. They more or less avoided each other."

"I guess there are a lot of documents regarding Moody. Reports of all sorts. Would Mr. Crouch bring those home to work on them or maybe for reference?" Hermione's quill was hovering expectantly over the parchment.

"No. I doubt there is anything in Bartemius Sr.'s house regarding his work. He is known for sticking to the rules. The rules say reports are not to be taken home. So he would not take them home." Sirius thought that over. "And since he is nearly always in the Ministry, he would not need to take anything home anyway."

When she had no other question or idea Hermione went back to the first parchment. Her finger tapped at the day of the Quidditch final. A moment later she browsed through her stack of parchments. She found the one she was searching for near the top and placed it in front of herself.

While trying to figure out how everything had exactly happened, she had written a full timeline for the day of the World Cup, which Sirius recognized, though he couldn't have said which points she was reviewing. "Maybe Barty made contact with one or even more of the other Death Eaters when they rampaged?" Hermione's gaze shifted to her latest parchment and the numerous tasks which had to be completed before the start of the school year. "If there were more of them involved in this plan, this could make sense."

"If one Death Eater was disguised by polyjuice potion he could have distracted Moody, while someone else cursed him in the back." Sirius thought that over and concluded: "That could actually work."

Witch and wizard fell silent. As Hermione reread her last note, she had another thought: "If there is more than one Death Eater involved, we have no reason to believe that Barty was the one impersonating Moody. It could have been anybody. And if we consider that, it is not even necessary to assume that Barty was involved in this plan at all. He could still be imprisoned by his father."

"Bartemius Jr. breaks the Imperius Curse and three months later Harry is dead? That is no coincidence!" Sirius disagreed.

"It could be one." Hermione added for consideration: "When the Imposter and I left Hogwarts on the same day, we did not follow a common plan. It was a consequence of Harry's death. Maybe that is what we're seeing here, too."

Sirius tried to think this over. But he found a flaw in Hermione's theory: "If it was another Death Eater, why would he have acted now and not last year or even the one before?"

Her furrowed brow indicated Hermione's thought process. "Maybe the Imposter - whoever we are talking about - gave first the Heir a chance and afterwards it was your opportunity. When both attempts at Harry's life failed, he decided it was his turn."

"I never tried to harm Harry!" Sirius said out of reflex.

"I know," Hermione answered, her tone nearly soothing. "But the Imposter could have thought you were trying to. Maybe he only reads the Prophet and has no additional sources of information?"

"And how would he have gathered all this necessary information?" Sirius gestured at the notes on both parchments, the one Hermione had just written and the one which summarized what had happened in the last half year.

"The Imposter was only in need of information about Moody." Hermione pointed at her most recent parchment. "As I said before, everything happening at Hogwarts could have been planned at a later point of time. He could have gotten information from the staff and Dumbledore."

"I still think it's Bartemius Jr.!" Sirius grumbled.

"To find the Imposter, we would need to know who could have gathered the necessary information about Moody." Hermione grabbed her outline and checked the reference of its index. Instead of turning to the pile on her left she went for a basket at the floor. It held scrolls of parchment too long for the initial stack. The searched one was nearly two yards long. It was a list of suspects and their reason of suspicion.

Sirius watched, surprised, as Hermione added the name Bartemius Crouch Junior to the bottom. "What are you doing?"

"Barty is a suspect." Hermione declared and rolled the scroll up. "Not a very likely one. But the list contains a lot of names that are even less likely."


	11. Ambush on the Hidden Man

Ambush on the Hidden Man

* * *

Dusk had fallen over the small village three hours before. The darkness was accompanied by silence. Now and then, some car broke both with its headlights and engine, each one indicating another resident who had finished his daily load of work.

Out of the shadows a certain being ignored them entirely. He had been observing all day from beneath a leafless bush, but the occupations of these muggles and their village were of no interest to him. His gray eyes were focused at all times on a single building; one that all the muggles were ignoring thanks to well-maintained enchantments.

None of the non-magical inhabitants of this fine settlement had ever known that there was an old pureblood family living among them. The Crouches were once counted as one of the sacred twenty-eight families. At some point in the 19th century, they had gained possession of a small estate, on which was built a single house: two stories, red bricks; an unpretentious home. It was definitely no manor, but it was bigger than a family needed it to be.

The Crouches had always been well off, but their ancient family tree did not equal old money. For centuries there had always been at least one of them working in the Ministry of Magic. Throughout countless decades the Crouches had built a reputation for being hardworking and reliable, climbing the ladder of the bureaucracy.

One had lived his family's reputation to the fullest: Bartemius Crouch Senior had risen higher than any of his ancestors, becoming the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He could have become Minister of Magic if there had not been a tiny problem: his very own son was a terrorist and enemy of the state he served. Without hesitation the father had sent his only offspring to Azkaban.

The damage had already been done, however. Bartemius Sr. had lost his chance to ascend. It was highly probable that the bureaucrat would not have freed his son, had he not fallen out of public favor. But both had happened.

To Sirius, this was irony at its finest: One person was guilty and convicted, but only found himself inside the dementor plagued prison for a few days, while he, an innocent man, had spent a dozen years in that most gruesome place without ever getting his due process.

The situation had changed once more. The death of an innocent boy would bring both men together, at least if Sirius Black had anything to say in the matter.

For the moment, however, he was just an observer. His animagus form was once more serving him well. Which other creature would have been able to stay outside for three days in the middle of rainy weather that would have suited the British winter just fine? Had he been smaller, he would be freezing by now. Had he been bigger he could not have hidden as effectively. More than ever, Sirius was happy that out of all possible animals he had turned into a black dog.

He had no clock, but like all dogs he knew the time. Not by numbers but by things that happened regularly. At the moment, Sirius felt that the time was close. Bartemius Crouch Senior would soon arrive. He always did.

As anticipated, he heard a crack. It was not overly loud, but it was a distinct sound he could not miss, even if he had been napping (but that was a morning problem anyway).

The man turned dog watched a wizard of average appearance stride the few yards to his door. His hand touched the handle and he whispered something. Sirius couldn't quite make out the words. The door opened. Bartemius slipped inside, and then the door was shut once more.

If Sirius could just overhear the password for the wards, he would be able to enter the house and look around in search of Bartemius' son. Hermione had sent Sirius here to disprove his own theory, or at least make him stop his constant nagging at her about Bartemius Jr.

Contrary to Hermione, Sirius was of the opinion that Bartemius Jr. was not here. He thought he was Moody's imposter. So far his observations confirmed his theory, in so far as there had been no sign of Bartemius Jr. There had been no activity in the house while Bartemius Sr. was gone. No room was lit, no window had been opened and no smoke had risen out of the chimney.

After a bored yawn, Sirius placed his head on his front paws. They were still lacking a plan what to do if Bartemius Jr. was at home. If they found him here, they could obviously cross him from the list of Harry's potential murderers. If he could not be found here, Hermione insisted it meant nothing at all, or at least did not prove his participation in Harry's death.

In any case, all clues suggested that Bartemius Sr. was utterly alone in his home. He had seemingly not even bothered to get a new elf to replace Winky, who had brought Sirius here and had since then delivered food to his bush.

Food was another indicator! Each evening Bartemius Sr. brought some precooked meal home. Sirius could smell it through the small bag in the wizard's left hand. He would be hard pressed to survive off the amount even if he was alone. He had to eat breakfast and lunch somewhere close to or even at the ministry.

Sirius wanted to stay at his post as long as possible. He wanted to prove to Hermione that Bartemius Jr. was not hidden in this house, and therefore most likely involved in Harry's murder. If he could just get hold of the password, he was sure Hermione would allow him to check the inside of the house. That would be harmless, even if Bartemius Jr. was there. He would have no wand after all.

Thanks to a well worded magical restraint, he was in need of Hermione's explicit permission to enter the house. Had he not been, he would have tried to persuade Remus of breaking in with force. But the contract he had signed set close boundaries. At first it had felt awkward to be ordered around by a teenage girl, but he had gotten used to it surprisingly quickly. At least she explained her commands and they were always reasonable – at least from her perspective. Neither had been the norm back in the last war.

After a while, it became apparent that Bartemius Sr. was following his usual routine. Lights were turned on and off in a certain order and under the maxim that at all times there only was to be one single illuminated room.

When Bartemius Sr. settled into the penultimate room of his nightly journey through the house, Sirius' mind drifted once more into the realms of his memory. Today his thoughts revolved around little Harry. He had been the first baby Sirius had ever held. Lily had practically shoved him into his arms. He had been afraid he would hurt the little boy, but nothing had happened. At least until Harry started wiggling. The man, who had not dared to hold the baby at first, was heartbroken when it was taken from him. Back in his mother's arms, Harry stilled instantly. A few weeks later Sirius had been unbelievable happy when the babe had wriggled out of somebody else's grip to be held by him.

Something remarkable happened beneath that bush on the boundary of a small English village. For the first time in years, Sirius thought of the future. Not in a way as to correct a past mistake, but just for something he was anticipating to happen. He wondered which gender Hermione's child would have. Would the baby accept him like Harry had? Sirius' mind was following this trail while his eyes unfocused and blurred the house in front of him into a huge red mass.

Suddenly Sirius' consciousness was ripped back into the real world. He felt disoriented when his eyes fixed onto diligent movement inside the house. As far as he could determine by the silhouette, Bartemius Sr. was searching something in his library. He went over to the bookcase and back to his desk, where he would not even take the time to sit down before he exchanged one book for another.

Bartemius' behavior was odd. The two previous evenings nothing of the like had happened. He had just sat in his armchair barely visible through the curtains, before he went to bed late at night.

A loud crack echoed through the night.

Sirius' head swung around fixing the spot which Bartemius Sr. used to apparate to. Two wizards stood there. They were clearly visible thanks to the light of a muggle lantern nearby. One of them was of average size and slim. There was nothing remarkable about him. But the other one was special. He was small for a grown man, only as big as Hermione - and she was petite. He had a bald patch on his head, which reflected the light, and Sirius knew without seeing his face that he had grubby skin, a receding chin, small watery eyes and a pointed nose. Peter Pettigrew had come to visit Bartemius Crouch Sr.!

The ill-matched pair went for the door. It was only a few steps. The unremarkable man knocked. The moment the door opened they both turned around for some reason.

It was only then that Sirius noticed his own growling or that he had left his bush. A second later his jaw snapped shut on Pettigrew's right hand, splintering bone as well as the wood of a wand.

His human half felt nothing but boiling rage. His animal half had the ice cold incentive to kill the one that had decimated his pack. He mauled the hand between his teeth without mercy. He pulled Wormtail over the ground, rolling around and trying to rip his arm out of its socket.

He heard a pop. The human part of Sirius understood Barty had just run away. He felt despair. Had he just let the only chance slip to capture Harry's murderer? Sirius understood that he could not kill Pettigrew no matter how much he wanted to.

He turned back into a man and drew his wand. "Stupefy!"

Wormtail instantly stopped moving, and even more importantly - he fell silent. Sirius dared to look at the wounded hand. It was not nice, but he would not bleed to death.

"What should I do?" Sirius asked aloud, as if he was hoping for advice. He would ask Hermione. She could decide! He grabbed Wormtail and disapparated.

* * *

Wormtail was not big, and he had lost a huge amount of weight since he had been at school. Sirius had no problem dragging the other wizard into Grimmauld Place.

"Hermione!" He screamed, slamming the door shut. Lucky enough they had been able to overpower the sticking charm on the back of his mothers painting. There was no rant from the deceased witch. "I have done something! Something bad!"

There was a moment of silence before Hermione's feet could be heard. She was coming down the stairs, faster than usual and way more angry. "What have you done?" she asked as she came into view.

"Pettigrew." Sirius pointed at the unconscious and bleeding man.

"Tell me what happened. And fast. No details." Hermione stared down at the small man. It was not a nice sight. She was calculating. Maybe Pettigrew would die.

"Two wizards apparated to the house. One of them was Wormtail." Sirius pointed once more at the heap beneath them. "The other could have been Bartemius Junior but I don't know for sure. Before I knew what happened I had bitten Wormtail. The unknown wizard grabbed Bartemius Senior and disapparated."

"He is not supposed to be here, Sirius. We don't know if there are tracking charms on him!" Hermione was controlled but her fury was already there. "He can't stay here."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"He has to leave immediately." Hermione took a moment to analyze the situation. "Bring him to the empty house at the Thames, the one we looked at."

"I remember." Sirius leaned down to grab Pettigrew.

"Keep him unconscious," was Hermione's first order. She thought hard before adding: "Search him. Take his clothes off so you don't miss anything! Stop the bleeding. No fancy healing charms. Just make sure he doesn't die of blood loss. Don't let him escape!" Hermione stepped closer. "Whatever you do, don't let him get away! Understood? If you need to kill him, do so."

"Yes."

Hermione bit her bottom lip. "But don't chase him, if he does get away."

"Okay."

"I'll floo call Remus, maybe he can get us veritaserum. It is eleven o'clock. Maybe someone in Knockturn Alley will be willing to sell." Hermione looked into the room to her right. There was the fireplace which was connected to the floo network. "Go now. I will come around or send one of the elves." At this Dobby and Winky stepped out of a corner they had waited in. In imitation of Hermione, Winky had tailored herself a simple black dress. "I want this floor absolutely spotless! There has to be no way to confirm that there ever was blood on it. Not even with magic!"

Both elves stood ramrod straight. It was very unusual that they got such a clear order. "It will be done!" they chorused.

"Sirius!" The wizard's hand was already on the door handle. "Tell me the details you found the most important or odd. Fast. Don't think."

Sirius tried to obey and said the first thing that sprang into his mind. "Bartemius Junior or whoever it was, did not cast at me. He was slower at drawing his wand than Peter. And he aimed at me, but then he just grabbed the old man and was gone."

Hermione blinked in surprise. She had no idea what to make of that! "Something else?"

Sirius had just been waiting for a second question: "Bartemius Senior was checking his library for something."

Hermione looked perplexed. "He has not done that before?"

"Not that I have seen," he confirmed.

After a moment Hermione waved her hand in dismissal: "Go."

Sirius left, closing the door with more care than before.

"Winky, stop cleaning." Winky stopped as demanded, while Dobby kept scrubbing systematically with a sturdy brush while murmuring cleaning spells. "Dobby please don't forget the stairs in front of the house."

"Dobby will do as he is told!" The elf squealed eagerly while Winky was watching him with envy.

"Winky, can you go near the Crouch house and check if anybody is there?"

"Winky can! Is Winky supposed to help former master?" The elf was practically bouncing with excitement.

"No, you are not," Hermione clarified. "Can you check if anybody is inside the house without them noticing?"

A flash of sadness crossed the elf's face, but it was gone in the blink of an eye. "Winky can do that!"

"Good. But before you go, put the invisibility cloak on," Hermione ordered.

"The one from dead Master Harry?" Winky requested in awe. She understood perfectly how much Hermione valued the cloth.

"We only have that one." Hermione felt one of her eyebrows rise. "I want you to stay safe. Just check and come back."

Winky popped away.

"Miss Hermione is very gracious to elves. She cares for them!" Dobby commented, while happily scrubbing the floor.

"You are both important to me." The witch said while moving into the room with the fireplace. She took a small amount of floo powder and threw it onto the carbonised wood. Green flames erupted. "Remus' cottage!"

Hermione knelt down and leaned forward, placing only her head inside the lukewarm flames. "Remus! Remus Lupin! Get to your fireplace! Now!" she yelled with all her might.

A drowsy voice reprimanded the witch: "Hermione this place is not very big, there is no need to scream at that volume!"

"I need veritaserum. As fast as possible," Hermione announced hurriedly. She took a moment to sort her thoughts and explained in short words: "Gold does not matter, I do not care where you get the veritaserum from. We just need it fast. Sirius has captured Wormtail. I have some questions for him. Afterwards we will turn him in and get Sirius' name cleared."

"He has him? Like now? I will come over!" Remus fully awake by now stepped closer to the fireplace. He was eager to pass through as soon as Hermione gave him the opportunity to do so.

"He is not here at Grimmauld Place." Hermione informed the wizard. "Bring me the veritaserum and we will go to him. Do you know where you can get some?"

The man scratched his scrubby chin. "No. But I know where I can ask."

The curiosity got the better of Hermione: "Where?"

"Hog's Head Inn in Hogsmeade. The landlord Aberforth knows a lot. If he likes someone he may even answer a question," Remus informed Hermione.

"Tell me, when or if he helps you." Hermione frowned. "Maybe pass him a Galleon or two to speed things along?"

"Never do that!" Remus hastened to warn her. "He has some quirks. If he thinks you look down on him, he will ban you from his pub for life!"

"Well. Try to hurry. And keep me informed." Hermione leaned back and the green flames died down instantly.

Winky was already waiting to be acknowledged, which Hermione did with a nod. "Nobody is in former Master's house! No former Master Crouch, no former Young Master Crouch and nobody else. Here is invisible cloak. Nothing happened to it." Winky presented Harry's cloak.

"Good. Now listen closely! I want you to go back and check once more. If somebody is there, you will stay hidden and return here. If nobody is there, you will go into Mr. Crouch's library. Are there spells on the books that keep them safe?" Hermione wondered.

"No!" Winky said instantly. "Former Master Crouch did not like that!"

Hermione nodded. "Mr. Crouch was searching for something. You will bring me all books that are not placed inside the bookshelf. And bring me the three oldest books and the three books that each Mr. Crouch and Barty read the most."

"Winky will hurry!" the elf said and vanished.

Hermione went over to Dobby to check how the cleaning came along. He had already reached the stairs in front of the door. "That looks good."

"Thank you, Miss Hermione!" Dobby squeaked.

Hermione returned to the fireplace, taking a seat on the couch next to it to await Remus' floo call. Two floating stacks of books appeared out of nowhere. A moment later Winky unveiled herself, when she pulled the invisibility cloak off. "Cloak is still fine, Miss Hermione!"

"Good." she looked at the two stacks. One of them was clearly higher. Hermione counted fourteen books on that one while the other held nine books. "Explain to me, what you got me there."

"These books lay around." Winky pointed at the higher stack.

"Was one of the books open?"

Winky split the stack in the middle pointing at a thick volume enclosed in green leather. "Yes this one."

"Do you remember where?"

Winky looked sad. "Somewhere in the middle?"

Hermione knew it was her own fault, she should have told the elf to mark the page. "Okay. That is good enough."

Winky beamed once more.

"Were there any parchments lying around?" asked Hermione curiously.

Winky scrunched her face up while trying to remember. "No. Miss Hermione. Should Winky go and take another look?"

"No, we should not push our luck." The witch tried whether the book would maybe open naturally on a certain page, but it obviously had not been left alone for long enough to do so. After a moment, Hermione diverted her attention. "What about the pile of nine books?"

"These are the oldest." Winky cleared up and separately showed of the lowest three of the stack. "These are old Master's best liked." All three books were about the ministry. "And Mr. Barty liked these." Like his father Barty had a favorite theme, but his were dark curses.

When looking through the pile of fourteen books Hermione noticed one that was titled: "Household spells, Volume 2: The kitchen." Hermione looked at her personal elf. "So you brought me every book, lying around in the house?"

Winky did not know what a rhetorical question was. She nodded proudly, happy to have done as asked.

Hermione sighed. "Please tell me where you found each of these books."


	12. Interrogation of Peter Pettigrew

A/N: So, I'm finally back at this story. I think it is kind of obvious that I'm no longer in the mood to complete it. Therefore I'll write a shorter alternate ending that offers a legitimate closure.

* * *

Interrogation of Peter Pettigrew

* * *

After inspecting the floor in the hallway once more, Hermione went outside to check the staircase and pavement in front of Grimmauld Place 12. It was spotless. Dobby beamed at the praise he received over the thorough scrubbing. Both elves seemed to be quite happy when Hermione tasked them to clean the hallway on the very next day.

It took Remus nearly a full hour to floo-call Hermione. She was sitting on the threadbare couch next to the fireplace while putting together an overlong list of questions for Peter Pettigrew.

Green flames erupted out of nowhere and after a second a head appeared inside the fire. "Hermione? Are you there?"

"I hope nobody can hear you! My name is quite unique." The witch rebuked the grown man.

Remus tried to soothe his employee, "Nobody is around. I have requested to use an empty room in the Hogshead."

Hermione's anger rose for the simple reason that Remus brushed her worry off. "Don't make a habit of using my name carelessly!"

"Okay. I'll be more careful from now on." Remus sighed impatiently. "Could I make my report now?

Still, a bit irritated Hermione nodded. "Please do."

"I was making small talk with Aberforth. He's the barman..." Remus stopped mid-sentence when he noticed that he was wasting time. "Long story short, I got nowhere at first and when I finally made some progress, he called me out on just getting to the point. So I asked him who could sell me a small vial of Veritaserum right now."

"You seem to be quite complacent. Therefore, I guess that he gave you a name?"

"Yes he did," Remus confirmed. "I had to explain to him why I needed it in the middle of the night though."

Hermione rubbed her temples. Remus was really testing her patience. "Please, tell me you did not tell him the truth!"

"Certainly not!" The wizard hurried to say, "I told him, I got a business offer from someone whom I thought to be a trickster. Aberforth knows its a lie but he accepted the explanation and introduced me to a wizard called Nottingham."

"Well done." Hermione asked eagerly, "When will you get the Veritaserum?"

"Nottingham has used the floo. He said he would be back in round about two hours."

Hermione spoke out loud what she thought, "That means he has to get the potion from someone else."

"He is definitely no potions master." Remus chuckled. "Anyway, while he fetches the potion for us, I'll pay a visit to Gringotts and withdraw 400 Galleons."

"That is a lot of gold Remus. Make sure he does not cheat you." Hermione stared in the general direction of the library. "Do you know a way of testing Veritaserum without ingesting it?"

"I do." Remus explained schoolmasterly, "One drop on a green leaf will make it smell like a sunflower."

"Proceed."

Remus started pulling his head out of his fireplace.

At the last possible moment, Hermione added, "Be careful."

"I'll watch out." Remus smiled at the concern in her voice.

The connection was hardly cut off when Hermione scribbled a note for Sirius. She was not surprised when Hedwig sat on the backrest of the couch. "Take this note to Sirius." The snowy owl fluttered to the stairs. It was not so easy to get up the narrow stairwell for such a big bird. Hedwig fluttered from one storey to the next. She landed on the railing and turned around rather ungracefully. The enchanted window, which would open for her, was in the top storey.

Hermione was barely done with the list of questions when she called out, "Winky, Dobby. I'd like one of you to check the fireplace for Remus next call. I'll be in my room."

"Yes, Miss Hermione! We will be waiting." the two elves confirmed excitedly.

The witch knew they would both be waiting. She choose to allow them to interpret her order that way.

It felt like no time at all had passed, when Winky squeaked, "Miss Hermione! Mister Remus has returned!" Against her own expectations, Hermione had actually managed to doze off.

Dobby rarely entered her room these days. When getting bound to the witch Winky had rudely pointed out to him that it was her job as a female elf to exclusively attend to every need of their mistress. As a tradeoff, Dobby was allowed to take care of Sirius.

In the time after Harry's death, Hermione had made a habit of lying in bed awake for hours. Contrary to this mannerism she rose instantly. She collected a satchel from her desk and went downstairs while Winky dutifully straightened the bedsheets.

She met Remus in the hallway and they left Grimmauld Place behind. While waiting for the night bus, he asked, "Why don't we apparate?"

"I am pregnant." The witch answered briefly. "I am not sure if any form of magical travel is safe. I have found only one reference on it. And it said that splinching could be deadly for the unborn child. So, unless you are an expert and can enlighten me on the matter, I'll not take the risk."

Remus blushed a little. "I'm sorry. I don't know! The question never occurred to me."  
"I'm not surprised in the slightest. It's the sort of thing one would not talk about if it's not necessary."

Despite the empty streets and the little number of passengers stepping on and off the vehicle, they needed the better part of an hour to reach another run-down part of London. Instead of residential buildings these streets harboured abandoned monuments of the former British industry.

Without any forewarning, Remus stopped. He glared warily at one of the deserted factory buildings. "That place feels odd."

Hermione looked at him curiously, "Odd in which way?"

Remus was hard pressed to find the right words, "I don't know. It just feels off."

"Can you elaborate?" Hermione requested once more.

"No." Remus shrugged apologetically.

"I placed a very simple repellent ward on the building," Hermione explained. "Nobody will enter it if he has no business at this place. Maybe I made a mistake in the runic enchantment? I looked it up in the library at Grimmauld Place."

"Why did you not ask me to do that?" requested Remus.

The questioned earned him an incredulous look. "I thought, I would only need this place if someone knew I was hiding at Grimmauld Place. So amuse me and tell me how was anybody supposed to get knowledge of that?"

Remus looked warily at Hermione. It was obvious what he wanted to ask. His mouth opened one but no words came out. The wizard did not dare to inquire if she feared to get betrayed by him.

Hermione's eyes fixed him as if to say, I'm prepared. Her lips formed the words, "You have to relent, that telling you about this would have been against the point."

"That's true." Remus pushed his doubts aside and looked at the old building in awe. That something this big could get abandoned was hard to believe for him. Even standing fifty yards away it was a huge black scheme against the background of the ever-present electric city lights.

If one was capable of doing magic, entering the old factory was easy. The various doors and loading ramps offered plenty of opportunities to use an unlocking charm. They choose one of the emergency exits to set foot in and found themselves in a room that monopolized most of the building. It was big enough to put some cathedrals to shame. Overhead they saw the iron construction of the roof while the floor was an equally wide area of concrete. Drill holes were the only reminders of huge machines that once had been placed here.

Illuminated by a high window and a lantern just outside the hall lay a body on its back. It was bound by hands and feet. Remus made some fast steps to get ahead of Hermione.  
The witch, on the other hand, felt no need for hurry. She had seen a shadow close to the body. Just outside of the square of light on the floor lurked a huge black dog. A beast among animals with thick unkempt fur, wild eyes that could freeze blood and jaws powerful enough to rip a bear to shreds.

And high above her head Hermione saw something else. A golden pair of eyes was peering through the darkness. It was Hedwig. Maybe the animal was waiting maybe it was on watching duty or maybe it was lying in wait for the shackled figure to make his last mistake and turn into a rat. There was no way the owl would miss her prey on the concrete floor.

"The rat!" spat Remus. He was bodily shaking in anger.

"After all those years!" Sirius barked after turning into his human body. He had stepped into the light. The contrast of the deep shadows and his pale skin made him look almost as frightening as his animagus form.

There was no need to ask if Peter had been searched. The answer was obvious thanks to the hunch of clothes and the near nakedness of the elderly wizard. "Does he carry the Dark Mark?"

"Yes," Sirius answered since the arm could not be seen. He had been thorough and used a lot of rope. Peter's arms were bound overhead against a scrap of metal protruding straight out of the concrete.

Hermione interrupted the glowering at the unconscious wizard. "Remus got the Veritaserum. I wrote some questions down. And now we will hold a nice interrogation." She opened her bag and pulled out a long bland parchment, which she carefully unrolled. She placed a quill upright on the parchment. "This is an unaltered original Quick-Quotes Quill. It will write every word down as it is said and nothing more." Hermione watched the quill keenly. "This one seems to be working just as it is intended."

"From now on everything will be written down. I will hide out of sight." Hermione draped Harry's invisibility cloak over herself. "You two will wake Peter up. Give him the Veritaserum and ask all the questions I have written down." A female arm appeared and pressed a second parchment into Sirius' hand. "When all questions are answered, you will stun him once more and we will then discuss if there is something else we want to know. Remember three drops. And make sure he stays under the serum's effect by reapplying it every thirty minutes."

Sirius accepted the parchment.

There was a moment of silence, "The quill is still fine – get started."

Sirius pulled his new wand out of his robe and cast, "Rennervate!" on his former friend.  
Peter awoke with a jerk. "Where am I?"

"We are having a reunion, my old friend," Remus answered sweetly.

"You are breaking my heart!" Sirius mocked the bound man, "Don't you remember us?"

"Remus ... Sirius ..." For obvious reasons, Peter's voice was very thin.

"If I was you, I would not even think about turning into a rat." Sirius' voice, in contrast, was dark and hard. He pointed overhead. "Up there sits an owl. You know which one. Clever animal. She knows, Peter. She is waiting for you to turn into a rat. I am sure she wants to dig her talons into you and rip you apart. You have no chance, after all she lives upon hunting vermin."

"Vermin like you," Remus added.

Hermione did not turn her head upwards but Peter did and so did Remus. "You would not ..." but he did not even try to finish the thought. Because at least Sirius would stand back and allow Hedwig a feast on a fat albeit old rat.

Since Peter was staring open-mouthed at Sirius the other Marauder took the chance and dribbled three drops of Veritaserum into it.

As intended Sirius started the interrogation with the first question on the list, "What is your name?"

"In human form, I am known as Peter Pettigrew. As a rat I am called Wormtail." the little man squeaked.

From that point on Peter told them everything he knew. And he knew far more than they had expected. He revealed that it had been him who had found Voldemort in Albania. He told them about the scheme and how Barty Junior had survived. And finally, he revealed that Harry had been meant to win the tournament so he could be used as the final ingredient for the Embodiment Potion.

Hermione's blood froze as Peter told them how Harry's life had been supposed to end. Sirius nearly lost it then. For a short moment Remus hoped to revive Harry, "Could we somehow use the Embodiment Potion to bring Harry back?"

Peter shook his head even before he answered, "Harry Potter is dead. The Embodiment Potion cannot raise the dead, it can only provide the living with another body."

Following this came a big chunk of questions about the Death Eaters. It was designed to gather names and information of known murderers no matter if dead or alive, suspects and people under the Imperius Curse. Hermione wanted to know all those details nobody ever cared to tell Harry. Peter basically revealed the whole history of the last war. It took him so long Remus reapplied the Veritaserum four times.

These questions were important for Hermione's long-term planning. She wanted to know how big the imminent circle of enemies for her child would be. More than half a thought had been spent by her on the matter if to claim her child's heritage. Harry was dead and if there was nothing to be won by associating her child with him, why should she do so? She could claim her child's father was a student from Beauxbaton, Durmstrang or even just a muggle. The status of her child would be that of half-blood in any case.

Sirius voice was close to breaking when he read the first question of the personal block, "Why did you become friends with James, Sirius, and Remus?"

Pettigrew's answer was remorseful, "I became friends with James and Sirius because they were fun to be around. I guess we befriended Remus because he was there. It was only natural to do so since we shared a common sleeping room."

Next was the one question that had probably preyed on everyone's mind, "Why did you become a traitor?"

"There was barely a month without a member of the Order dying. We were losing slowly. I was just the first to notice. I choose the winning side. Lord Voldemort took me in as his agent inside the Order of the Phoenix. He promised to reward me once he had won. I thought it was perfect, whoever won, I would be with them."

"Do you regret becoming a traitor?"

"Yes." Peter's answer made them all sympathetic - but not for long, "Had I known I would become a wanted man I would not have betrayed my friends."

Once Sirius had asked all questions on the list, he knocked Peter out with the Stunning Spell.

"That went better than expected." Hermione declared while brushing the hood of the invisibility cloak back. She grabbed the parchment out of Sirius' hand and took another quill to write on the empty backside. Another list of questions was assembled. "If you can think of anything else feel free to ask him."

Three more lists were pieced together. When even Hermione couldn't come up with more questions they were done.

Hermione was in the process of collecting all parchments and quills when Remus said, "We have to deliver Peter to Dumbledore!"

"No." The witch shook her head vehemently. "Even if we hand over Peter to Dumbledore right away, he will only ask questions and not take any actions. It would not even surprise me if he wanted to know how we got a hold of Pettigrew before he considers doing anything else. And if we do not present a well thought of lie to him, he could unravel everything I want to keep secret from him."

"Those secrets are good for nothing," Remus argued.

"These secrets are decisive!" Hermione objected hotly, "All my lawsuits will be lost once it is out in the open, that it is me who makes those accusations!"

"Do you really want to keep this up? Voldemort is trying to get a new body. Dumbledore should be hunting him and not defending himself against our suits!"

"That's not your decision but mine!" Hermione looked questioningly at Sirius.

"I'll follow you, no matter where you lead." The tall wizard said firmly.

"I don't like it," exclaimed Remus. He glared at Sirius and Hermione as well. "You are a child. You should be at school and not hide in a ruin! It would be much safer for you."

"That school is not safe. And if Harry was man enough to face a dragon I am woman enough to decide where I sleep!" Hermione burst out, "You will not tell Dumbledore! That is an order by the contract you have signed! As long as you accept the money you will not disobey."

Remus felt betrayed. He had just felt the prickle which was agreed upon to warn him before he would face a magical backlash. Back when he had signed the contract the punishments had seemed fair. Right now it felt like he was manacled.

"Peter needs to get into the ministry in a manner that they have to review the protocols about Sirius case. I want Sirius innocence proven." Hermione started explaining her plan. "Remus will get in contact with our solicitor. He decides how to hand Peter over to the ministry. I would suggest calling the Aurors. And I would like a reporter from the Daily Prophet making photos. I want Peter's Dark Mark on the cover page!"

"Dumbledore could take care of all those things," commented Remus stubbornly.

"I don't want, Dumbledore taking credit for this. Besides I don't trust him to not mess this up." Hermione raged, "He could not get a minor out of a magical contract, he should not have been able to sign due to age restrictions! He could not get Harry out of the damn thing even though he was the fourth participant in an event designed for three! We will not count on Dumbledore and that's final!"

The window that had previously provided them with the light of the lantern was now allowing a golden glow to shine into the room.

Hermione roughly pushed another piece of parchment and a Self-Inking Quill into Remus' hands. "Get in contact with the solicitor."

"I still think we should contact Dumbledore," Remus grumbled. But he started writing instantly.

Hermione shot back, "Don't worry, I am sure someone in the ministry will tell him about Peter as soon as he in custody."

Once Hedwig was on her way to deliver the letter, Sirius changed back into a dog. Hermione pulled the well-known dog leash out of her handbag. When she put the collar around his neck she could not stop herself from ruffling his head, she whispered into his ear, "I think you got really lucky with Peter and Barty. You could be dead or worse. But it seems that for a change something good happened to you." Sirius tail swished and his tongue lolled out in a happy looking way.


	13. Remus' Recruitment

Remus' Recruitment

* * *

Hogwarts had seen a fair number of headmistresses and an equal amount of headmasters. Most of them had contributed one thing or another to the school, changing it in the tides of time. Many of them had been great teachers. Some had been especially influential. Another portion had been selected because they were deemed to be the right choice for their time. All of them had been masters of their craft.

Over the course of nine centuries, esteemed witches and wizards had formed a long string which ended in the current headmaster. A wall in his office illustrated this fact better than anything else. Portraits had been hung there. Each headmaster and headmistress was represented by a painting of her- or himself. This tradition had been started in the 15th century when clever enchantments had made it possible to put an imprint of a personality into a painting. They were offering advice and knowledge to the current headmaster.

One day Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore's portrait would hang next to them. There was no question about that. He would willingly grant support and references to his successors. Hopefully, he would be of greater use to the coming headmistresses and headmasters than the current collection was to him. Once or twice it had crossed his mind, that this dilemma was partially his fault. The root of his problem to find useful advice was the kind of challenges he was burdened with. None of his predecessors had fought a Dark Lord. They were here to help him handle Hogwarts and not Britain. In a nutshell, they were simply out of their depths.

For the moment Dumbledore pushed his musings aside. The solution to one of his problems was close. One man held the key for freeing him of a major part of his predicament. Soft knocking announced the arrival of his guest. "Please come in."

The handle of the door tilt downwards and the dark oak swung around in a soft manner. Remus Lupin made a notably different entrance than a few months prior. "Hello, Professor."

"Hello, Remus. Please take a seat." An honest smile spread the headmaster's beard. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

The former student and teacher failed to make himself comfortable in the plush armchair. He squirmed uneasily, "I should not be meeting with you."

"Why not?" Dumbledore questioned smoothly. "We are ex-colleagues, ex-comrades and so I hope still friends."

The wizard looked guiltily at his counterpart, "Are we really?"

"I consider you a friend." offered Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye.

"Certainly you are aware that I'm responsible for the lawsuit against you." Remus groaned. His acceptance of Hermione's decisions had never been enthusiastic and it had dwindled especially over the past month.

A dismissive gesture with his left hand visualized Dumbledore point of view. "It is not you, but your employee that is responsible."

"As much as I want to, I can't drop the accusations." was Remus sad remark on the matter. "Not on your behalf or anybody else."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "I was already aware of that."

"Then ..." Remus scratched his chin, feeling the stubble that was once more forming there. "I'm not sure, why you requested my presence?"

"I'm gathering the Order of the Phoenix." Dumbledore interlaced his fingers. "I'm asking everyone that was willing to oppose Voldemort the last time to rejoin me. We have been given an opportunity to get started before his plans fully unfold. We have to make the best of it."

Surprise sounded in Remus' voice, "You are asking me if I want to rejoin the Order?"

"Certainly." Dumbledore inclined his head in affirmative. "Your participation has been of great value the last time and I think it will be worth even more these days."

Giving the matter barely any thought, Remus offered, "I will do whatever I can."

"This kind of determination will be of great value to us." praised Dumbledore. "Thank you very much for offering it."

"Don't mention it." Remus requested. He was elated since he had not ruined his relationship with the highly esteemed headmaster. "What does the plan look like?"

Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow. Remus had become noticeably more hands-on since he left his post at Hogwarts. "Peter revealed Voldemort's hideout to us. He claimed it was an abandoned manor in a little muggle village. When the Aurors checked his story, they found nothing but a ruin burnt down to the ground. No residue of magical or cursed fire. I tried to trace down Voldemort but the trail was cold."

"I could take a closer look at it." offered the werewolf.

Dumbledore hesitated before declining, "No, that would be a waste of your time. I already checked the place for evidence and found absolutely nothing. Even if you managed to find something I did not, it would be useless. Voldemort has by now run too far to capture him."

"But there is something we will do?" Remus asked worriedly.

"Certainly!" Dumbledore emphasized, "I want us and Britain to be prepared when Voldemort comes out of hiding. Therefore we will prepare ourselves and even more importantly we will prepare the ministry. Sadly the minister denies the danger we are currently living in."

Remus found himself on the receiving end of a pair of bright blue eyes.

"There is something else I wanted to ask. Why did you not come to me?" the headmaster sounded disappointed with Remus, which made the younger man cringe.

"Pardon me?" he asked unsure of himself.

"Please tell me, why have you not placed Peter in my care?" specified Dumbledore.

"How would that have changed anything?" asked Remus evasively.

"It would have been for the better." the headmaster answered without saying much.

"And how so?"

After a very long moment, Dumbledore explained, "Had Peter been my prisoner, I could have controlled what he was asked and therefore what he would have answered."

"I understand, you would have preferred to keep some of the machinations hidden. That Moody was impersonated for example." Remus tried to sound sure of himself and maybe even a little bit accusatory, but his voice was too weak.

"It would have been for the better," Dumbledore repeated softly. "As it is now, Peter has revealed too much. Neither the Minister nor the public is unwilling to believe all the revelations which have been revealed to them. An imposter inside of Hogwarts. Barty Crouch Junior not dead but hidden by his own father. Sirius Black no Death Eater. Voldemort back from the dead. That is just too much."

"But it's all true!" Remus objected. "You can't lie while subjugated to Veritaserum."

"That is right." Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "But there is a wide gray area between the truth and a lie. If one has mastered a certain technique, one can still leave details out. If a question is not precise enough, one can give answers that would indicate something one could easily understand in the wrong way. And most importantly one can only tell what one knows."

"But Peter knows all these things." countered Remus. "He could not lie about them."

"That is only technically true." lectured Dumbledore factually. "Peter could tell us anything as long as he believes it to be true. And that is the problem. The Minister is of the opinion, that Peter is crazy and has hallucinations. An investigation of his credibility was ordered. Auror Dawlish has been chosen to determine what was a real revelation of the Veritaserum and what was just insanity induced imagination on Peter's part."

Remus blinked in surprise. "I'm sure Auror Dawlish will find evidence."

"If Auror Dawlish wants to find evidence, he will do so. I don't doubt that. He has always found evidence when he was in need of it." Dumbledore summarized the character of the Auror. "But if – and this is a major if – if Dawlish does not want to find evidence, he will not do so. That is why he was chosen."

"He takes the law into his own hands?" gasped Remus at the not very subtle hint about the wizards methods.

"Most of the time he does his job excellently. He gets wizards arrested that need to be restricted for everybody's security." Dumbledore downplayed this as a minor problem. "But I fear in this case, he will come to the plainest of conclusions. Peter will be marked as crazy and dangerous. Guilty of placing Harry in the Tournament with the intent of getting him killed. If Bartemius Crouch Senior will be marked as his victim or as another offender, is not clear at this point in time. Much depends on the question whether his body will be found."

"But that is injustice! There are procedures that have to be followed. The court makes the decisions not a single Auror!"

"It is as it is. Momentarily we are lacking the influence to do anything about Mr. Dawlish. And overall he is just a minor nuisance." Dumbledore's voice rose substantially. "The important thing for us is warning everyone of Voldemort's return."

"That is absurd!" Remus shook his head in disbelieve. He was not willing to let the matter rest. "Why would Peter even kill Harry if Voldemort had not ordered him to do so?"

"Since they cite Peter was insane all along, they will not need a motive. Dawlish can just claim: He did it." Dumbledore shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe he will point at his so-called delusions? Like I said a lot depends on the question if Bartemius will be found or not and if he will be alive or not. So far the evidence accumulated is not conclusive to this question."

"What evidence did Dawlish gather anyway?" Remus wanted to know.

"It is very little. Some evidence could be secured at the Crouch's family home." Albus offered willingly. "Someone has stolen a small number of books. They are clearly missing in the Crouch's private library. I inspected the shelf personally and there was quite a number of gaps while no books at all lay around to fill them. The conclusion is rather obvious. Dawlish barely found a way around it. His report states that an unknown number of books was loaned to unknown wizards."

Remus scowled. He leaned towards Dumbledore's reasoning. Books about magic were rarely given away. Especially borrowing multiple volumes would be seen as very impolite.

"Since the number of missing tombs is so small, even I was not able to deduce, what we witness in this instance. Maybe the thief was interested in one or two themes. Maybe he stole some books for their value or because he was just interested in them. Since the number of missing books is so small I was not able to find a pattern. There are no obvious thematic gaps in Crouch's library. And I saw some rare and old volumes on first glance."

"So, nothing at Crouch's house points at You-Know-Who?"

"Nothing at all."

"What are we going to do?" Remus requested eagerly.

"Since the ministry is not willing to prepare in any way, we have to work twice as hard." Dumbledore started to explain. "First we have to strengthen our numbers. I'm gathering the old crowd. You're one of the first I asked. But I'm also trying to recruit some new members. We've to prepare for the impending fighting. And another task may be even more important, we have to man strategic positions to restrict Voldemort's access to the Ministry of Magic and thwart his plans."

Remus' face fell. "I can't be of any help in the Ministry." He did not need to mention that as a werewolf his presence inside of the ministry building was barely tolerated. For the same reason, he was not very suited for recruiting either. "Or at recruiting."

"If you think you can't further our goals you are wrong Remus." Dumbledore smiled. "In fact, you can hope to achieve more in that regard than most others."

Finally, Remus understood, "You are talking about the werewolves."

A scarce nod confirmed the assumption. "Indeed I have to ask you to contact them."

"I achieved nothing last time."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Don't underestimate your contribution to our efforts! The last time Voldemort could recruit only a few packs of the most vicious werewolves. Most of those were killed in the war. And I think the surviving ones learned the hard way, what it means to associate with Voldemort."

"There is still as much resentment against the Ministry within the werewolves than back then."

"Maybe you're right. We definitely wasted a chance to reconcile with our cursed brothers after the last war. However, I think you will be able to counter Voldemort's recruiting. You are older, more experienced and – I dare to say so – more respectable. Your word holds more weight today than it did back then."

Remus was a bit surprised, "Naturally I will do my utmost, but don't expect a miracle."

"Thank you, for accepting this task." Dumbledore leaned back. "Sadly there is something else I have to burden you with."

"Another task for the Order?"

"Two in fact."

Remus' eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Both tasks are linked to the same person. Your employee." Dumbledore explained, "The Potters have stood up for the light for generations. And it would be a huge asset if the Regent would be willing to lend us his support."

His back was stiff and his fingers were white from grabbing the armrest of his chair so hard. Remus understood this request very well. He knew this could backfire enormously. Dumbledore had obviously no clue who he was really working for.

"I know what you're thinking." The headmaster assured his guest. "But I'm only asking you to talk to the Regent. If he is anything like James, he will understand, that we have to stand united. You have to reason with him. He has to stop his campaign against me. Nothing will come out of the whole affair."

Before Remus could say something, Dumbledore went on, "Whatever the Regent of House Potter wants to happen, it won't occur. It was unlikely even before Peter Pettigrew was captured. But now that the Ministry has a scapegoat every attempt of the Regent will fail." Dumbledore spread his hands in an apologetic gesture. "They will blame Peter for everything." After a moment of thinking he added, "And if Bartemius does not reappear, they'll interpret that either as an admission of guilt on his behalf or they'll come to the conclusion that he is another victim. Anyway, the ministry will divert all charges to Bartemius."

Remus sighed, "I doubt the Regent will be sharing your sentiment on that matter."

Dumbledore stared at Remus. Finally, he allowed his resignation to show, "First of I never wanted Harry to die."

"I know." Remus mumbled barely understandable, "And I think the Regent is aware of that as well. The lawsuit represents his actual stance. You are accused of neglect and missing care, not of murder. That is because he thinks that you committed these crimes and not because he felt he could not push the case otherwise."

Dumbledore stroked his long white beard, "Can't we drop this Regency humbug and just name everyone as they are meant to be?"

Remus shook his head apologetically, "I'm bound by oath."

The headmaster was not happy about this revelation but he took it in stride. "The Ministry was never willing to condemn itself or one of our foreign guests. And for that reason alone, I'm untouchable in this matter. If I was punished, they would not be safe either. Anything the Regent of House Potter can manage is to slander Harry's name." Dumbledore picked another lemon drop. "Harry does not deserve to be remembered like some scoundrel. He was better than that. I'm trying to protect his name. But there will be a point from which on, I will not be able to proceed on this course of action."

"Is this for my ears only?" asked Remus thoughtfully. This argument held actually some potential to sway Hermione.

"You can pass everything along if you wish." Dumbledore made a dismissive gesture. "Please tell the Regent that he will drag the memory of Harry through the mire. And by doing so he will ultimately ruin his own name too."

They both thought about that for a while.

"If that was all, I will take my leave."

"There is another small favor I would like to ask of you." Before Remus could react, Dumbledore said, "I want to talk to Sirius, but I'm not able to get into contact with him. If you see him, please ask him to meet me."


	14. Sirius' Recruitment

Sirius' Recruitment

* * *

It was a busy day at Westminster Abbey. People were pouring into the huge Gothic Cathedral by the hundreds. They came from all around the world to take a look at the place where the British Monarchs had been crowned for over nine centuries. They were trying to capture their personal moment on photos and film with the huge monument in the background.

An old man appeared from behind a thick oak tree. He was wearing a brown coat and cord pants. A few muggles took a closer look at his very long beard. Some were trying to meet the requirements of politeness and still look but some showed no restraint and openly stared. However, all of them lost interest in the old man after a while. He had just a long white beard after all. It was not like he was anything special.

Once the sight of him had become stale, the old man went over to a guy. There was nothing remarkable about this second man either. He wore ordinary clothes. To the people, he was just a man sitting on a park bench fiddling with his green umbrella.

Dumbledore sat down and said in a manner of greeting, "Selecting this place for our meeting was quite clever."

Sirius gave a short nod and stated the obvious, "Around us are literary thousands of muggles. Even if the Aurors knew of my whereabouts, they would have no way to capture me, since they could not use magic without breaking the Statute of Secrecy."

The disguised Albus Dumbledore gave a happy nod, "Ingenious. And due to this hubbub, we won't be overheard without using any magical means despite being right in the middle of a crowd."

Sirius ignored the cheery mood of the aged wizard. "Remus told me, you had something of importance to discuss?"

"Indeed." The current Headmaster of Hogwarts turned his head and nodded at his former student, "I am reviving the Order of the Phoenix. And I am inviting you as one of the first to rejoin its ranks."

After a lengthy moment of silence, Sirius asked, "What could I do for the Order while the ministry still offers a bounty for my head?" He did not even have to mention the name, Peter Pettigrew. They both knew his file should have been reopened the moment the presumed dead wizard had reappeared.

"While your legal problems are indeed a major disadvantage for operations, there is still a lot you could offer to the Order," Dumbledore explained with a wide smile.

Sirius took glanced at the countless muggles around them. "Give me a few examples."

"Well first of all the Order needs a safe house to meet in. A headquarter, so to speak." Dumbledore explained almost eagerly, "As far as I know, Grimmauld Place would be ideal. Given that it was the residence of the Blacks for some centuries, it has to have pretty strong wards and should be big enough for our needs. And since it is in London even wizards and witches with somewhat limited abilities could reach it through Apparition from Diagon Alley."

Sirius said stoically, "I need the house myself."

"Certainly you could spare us a few rooms or even a floor without cutting back on yourself." Dumbledore requested politely.

"It is more a question of safety."

"Safety?" Dumbledore echoed in surprise.

"Yes, that is what I said," Sirius repeated unhelpfully.

The old wizard needed a moment to figure the problem out, "Don't worry Sirius. Grimmauld Place is safe enough for our purposes." And just like he was struck by inspiration that very moment he added, "And you know, I could even add the Fidelius Charm to enhance the protections further."

Sirius scowled. "I was thinking more in the lines of my personal safety."

"Sirius none of us is after your hide!" Dumbledore seemed appalled by the mere suggestion. "We trust you after all!"

"We?" requested the fugitive. "You mean all members of the Order?"

Dumbledore nodded solemnly, "Certainly!"

"So I enjoy everybody's trust?" The dark-haired wizard questioned, "Maybe like one would trust a good friend?"

"We're all good friends!" Dumbledore announced in a caring tone.

"The members of the Order do not only trust me? I am everybody's friend?" The wizard asked hollowly.

"Certainly!" insisted the older one. "Back in the last war, your wand preserved not only your own life. We remember, what we owe you."

"Owe me?" Sirius whispered in a thin and far away voice. He fell silent while looking at the Union Jack on top of the left tower of the cathedral. His voice was rough when he said, "You owe me a decade of my life." He turned his head to stare straight into the blue eyes of the headmaster. He hissed, "I was buried alive! I've been in Azkaban for twelve years! Was that my reward for putting my life on the line for the lot of you?"

"I can understand that you are angry," Dumbledore said soothingly. "Everybody would be. But now is not a time for that kind of thinking."

"Time?" Sirius snapped acidly, "You're talking about friendship and trust! Do you even listen to yourself? My real friends" Sirius put a huge emphasis on the word. "were Remus, James and Lily … and even Peter! Two of those are dead, the third was at fault for it and the last one thought, I was a bloody traitor!"

"Sirius, what happened back then is a tragedy in more than just one way. We all made grave mistakes. We didn't know any better!" Dumbledore said urgently. "I regret a lot of things about those days. If I had known..."

"I don't need you to remind me!" Sirius snapped. "I passed the position of the secret keeper on to Peter. That's my fault! I trusted the wrong man."

Dumbledore's eyes went wide at the insinuation, "I vouch for all members of the Order. I know that you regret trusting Peter but we need to stand together or we're all lost!"

"Tell me the prophecy – I want to hear it!" Sirius demanded. "James and Lilly were not able to tell me back then but since they are all dead now it doesn't matter anymore."

Dumbledore hesitated.

"You do not even trust me with information that's of no value anymore?"

"It's not like that at all. I trust you, Sirius. However, the prophecy is no longer important." Dumbledore changed his stance on the matter when he saw the hardness of Sirius' face. Once more he repeated the prophecy that had wiped out so many lives. He explained it thoroughly. He offered his interpretation line by line and even unveiled that Lily's sacrifice that had brought down Voldemort.

By the end of it, Sirius stared numbly at the cathedral. He tried to control his facial expression. He tried to hide his shock. He knew of another baby which was scheduled to be born at the end of July.

Taking the sudden silence of the other wizard as a good sign, Dumbledore said, "Your unjust incarceration is one of the things I regret the most. I must apologize for failing you."

"That's the very least." Sirius said, "Have you ever gained any knowledge about my involvement of that night?" There was no need to mention which night.

Dumbledore shook his head slowly, "No."

"Have you even tried?"

Dumbledore breathed in deeply and ruefully, "I have to admit that I did not."

"Because you thought I had done it," Sirius said monotonously. "You did not trust me back then and you do not today."

"Sirius, I'm more than just sorry for everything that happened. Everybody in the Order is! But how were we supposed to know?" requested Dumbledore.

"It was your duty to unveil the truth. Not even as my so-called friend or head of the Order but as Chief Warlock!" Sirius hissed, "And if you had not done it for me, you should at least have done so for Harry. I could have been easily removed as his guardian if I had been found guilty!"

"Sirius..." Dumbledore sighed yet again, "What was, can't be changed. We have to stick together and stand united against the looming Darkness."

"Darkness?" Sirius gasped, "You know nothing about Darkness! I've been living in hell. I have experienced Darkness like nobody else! I could tell you things..." Sirius threatened. "Only the worst of Voldemort's scum understand what I am talking about!"

Dumbledore checked the crowd. It would not do to be overheard. Sirius's behavior was drawing attention to them. "I can only repeat: Everyone of us is sorry..."

A major effort allowed Sirius to say almost calmly, "You've not been sorry enough to exonerate me."

"In the current situation, other things have priority."

Sirius glared, "I am starting to wonder whether it would do me any good if my case had priority with you." When Dumbledore frowned in confusion, he explained, "I am talking about Lily, James and especially Harry. I still remember your promise to them. You said you'd do your utmost. Did you actually count how many times he was in danger of dying while you took care of him?"

Dumbledore's face grew hard. Many would have been frightened by him. But Sirius had lived with Dementors for twelve years. The mortal realm held little to leave an impression on him. "I see. We'll not come to an understanding."

Sirius gave a slow nod. "I think so too."

Dumbledore stood up. "My invitation stands none the less. Once you change your mind, you'll be welcome to join us."

"Don't bother to contact me before I'm exonerated." Those were their parting words. Sirius gave Dumbledore no opportunity to reply. He walked away and vanished.


	15. Turning Tides

Turning Tides

* * *

Hermione's belly was round and swollen just like one expected it to be from a rather petite and pregnant teenager in her last trimester.

"That's..." she stopped and touched her belly. "She's moving."

"May I?" Sirius stood right next to her. His hand was hovering anxiously over her belly.

"Only if you have warm hands!"

The wizard made contact with the witch's upper arm. She nodded her okay. A second later, big warm fingers gently cupped the bulge which hid the unborn child. The way Sirius acted around her one could have almost believed that he was the father. Hermione had tried to imagine Harry in his stead but that made no sense to her. If Harry had been alive she wouldn't be pregnant. They would have been at Hogwarts.

Once the baby had settled, Hermione shifted and Sirius' hand slipped discretely away. She stepped back from her spot at the window and sat down at her table. A groan gave away that the word comfortable described a condition she had not experienced for quite a while. Standing, sitting, lying, it all became taxing over time.

A scroll of parchment diverted her attention for a moment. The prophecy was copied onto it in her neat handwriting. Noting everything – including Dumbledore's analysis – down had managed to distract her from her general discomfort for almost an hour.

"This is a nightmare." Hermione tapped the parchment with her index finger. She was very much in the mood to rip it into itsy-bitsy pieces which she could throw into the fireplace. "Just look at it! These are - in the literal sense - grave news."

"So, what will we do?" The look on Sirius' face said more than a thousand words. He would support her decision no matter what it was going to be. Which was good because Hermione was relying on his unwavering loyalty. However, right now she would have liked him to come up with a good or at least decent idea. Annoyingly, he made a point of being undecided.

"The question we are facing here is: What is our best option?" Hermione did not ask for rhetoric means. She looked expectantly at the wizard prompting him to express his opinion.

Sirius stared unwaveringly back at her. His facial expression was expectant like hers but at the same time grim.

"We could still try to execute our plan." Hermione mused while watching the wizard's stony face in case he might give away what he thought. "Dumbledore's warning is proving that the lawsuits are actually making headway. Maybe we could even find a way to up the ante."

Hermione was expecting that Sirius would remain quiet however this time he spoke up, "I doubt that." It was the first time since stumbling over Peter that he hinted at the fact that he had an opinion of his own. "I'm not even sure we can keep going in the way we have so far. I'm worried about Remus. He has always been somewhat reluctant about prosecuting Dumbledore. Now that You-Know-Who is back and the Order of the Phoenix was revived he'll lean even more towards the Headmaster. Pushed too far..." Sirius coughed, "Remus might actually choose to side with Dumbledore. I mean, I'm not sure but it's something I would not be overly surprised about."

"He can't. He signed the contract." The young with rummaged through a drawer of her desk. "He agreed on very harsh punishments... where is it..."

"I'm not sure Remus will care." A short and sad explanation followed, "I think pushed too far Moony will choose Dumbledore over himself. He'll do what he deems the best for – I don't really know whom – maybe the idea of doing-the-right-thing. Given the right incentive, he'll sacrifice himself."

"He'll choose Dumbledore over us? He'll betray us?"

"No," Sirius licked his lips nervously. "He'd never betray you or the baby. He'd rather die than put one of you in harm's way. I'm absolutely sure about that. But in light of Voldemort's return..." Sirius fell silent.

Hermione kept her quiet too as she could sense that the wizard was trying to come to a final conclusion.

Reluctantly, Sirius said, "The more power Dumbledore has the better he should be able to counter Voldemort's schemes. From this time forward it's futile to put Remus in charge of the suits."

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes,"

Hermione had found the contract by now. Her finger was pointed at the passages about the consequences of a breach of their contract. They were harsh but not unreasonable. Looking at it, Hermione could already make out a way in which Remus might be able to minimize the negative impact this contract could have on him and his magical abilities. The contract had not been designed to punish a lack of personal abilities. If Remus realized that and pursued that angle... "So your opinion is: We won't be able to proceed like we have done so far even if we wanted to?"

Sirius gave her a firm nod, "That's my opinion – yes."

Hermione glared angrily at the papers. After a moment she started stacking them. Once done she locked them into the lowest drawer. "If we can't prosecute Dumbledore, we can forget about all of the other lawsuits as well."

Her chair scrubbed over the floor when she stood up angrily. Once more, Hermione waddled over to the window to stare angrily at the rundown houses around her. Drizzle had cleared the street of the dropouts that usually hang around number four at this time of the day.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Hermione snapped. Sirius was the only one she could vent her frustration at. "Should we just ignore that Dumbledore got Harry killed? He wants us to aid him! Do you think we should join his Order of the Phoenix?"

"We could do that in theory," Sirius said challengingly but Hermione did not try to strangle him. She only sent a cold glare in his direction. "Yes, I know you don't want to. Why are you even bringing that up? We should save our breath and our time by just not assuming that's to be an option."

"It is."

"No, it's not. You don't want to."

"I'm currently asking for your opinion,"

"I already told you that most members of the Order paid a very high price for following Dumbledore." Sirius pointed out, "Many even paid the ultimate price when they got killed."

"So, you don't want to fight?"

"I'll fight." Sirius said in a tone that allowed no back talk, "For you and the baby. But I don't feel responsible for anyone else."

"It would be the right thing to do." Hermione challenged him.

"I tried to do the right thing. It did not work out." Sirius frowned, "At all." He grunted in annoyance, "Voldemort is back. History will repeat. I think it's time for those to pay who failed to learn. But that's not me. It's not us."

A sad nod approved Sirius' reasoning. "I don't trust Dumbledore to make the right decisions." Hermione gestured at her desk, "Keeping Harry safe should have been easy compared to planning a war."

"So, where does that leave us?"

"At the sideline." A fresh and empty parchment was unrolled on Hermione's desk. Her quill noted down exactly those words as her headline. It was almost as if she was about to do her homework. "For the time being, we'll have to sit back and watch."

Sirius watched the bushy-haired witch draft the outline of their new plan. He could read her handwriting upside down. She wrote 'improve hiding spot' and 'gather information'. She hummed thoughtfully and added 'improve security of hiding spot'.

She let the feathery end of her quill swing like a pendulum.

She turned the will between her fingers, making its feathery end twist back and forth. "If we do a good job at collecting information we could even spot opportunities to turn tides in our favour." She wrote down 'ways to improve our position:' and underlined it.

* * *

A deep frown wrinkled Dumbledore's forehead. His sparkling blue eyes let go of Remus' gaze. He lowered his wand. Only a small sigh indicated how deep his frustration ran. "I've got no explanation for this."

Remus had always been a calm man. And that was a very good thing right now. "How can that be? It makes no sense"

A short nod confirmed his opinion. "No, it doesn't."

"My memory is perfectly fine." Frustration bled into his words, "We've seen each other only four days ago! And I'm sure my memory was perfectly fine back then too but somehow I still can't remember some things I could back then."

That made Dumbledore sit up. "You're absolutely certain your memory is fine Remus?" The wizard in question nodded and opened his mouth to confirm but Dumbledore spoke over him, "You don't doubt your mind even now when facing this very obvious paradox? You know that some knowledge is missing in your mind but you still believe in the immaculateness and entirety of your memories?"

"I know my memory is fine," Remus exclaimed wholeheartedly.

"And there isn't even the slightest doubt? You can't imagine that just maybe there might be an oh so unlikely and very slim possibility you could be wrong?"

Once more the answer was given without hesitation, "I am sure about my memory!"

"Certainty is a wonderful thing. It can be the foundation for the most marvellous things." Dumbledore leaned back in his armchair. "Sadly, we can't be always right. The contrary is true. There are countless ways we can be wrong."

Remus frowned but remained quiet.

The wand reappeared in Dumbledore's fingers. A complex pattern was woven into the air. "Please tell me, Remus, why are you so sure about your memory? Explain it to me. Take as much time as you want to. Try to convince me."

"Okay," Remus licked his lips and started. "I can remember the past months very vividly. When I concentrate I can remember day upon day and there is nothing wrong with my memories. I can look them over if I want to."

Once more Dumbledore's wand had disappeared. He asked like he wanted to clear up something that slightly confused him, "What exactly can you remember? Try to give me a summary of what you did over the past months."

"Well, I usually left my house around nine in the morning. I remember dozens of meetings with wizards and witches. I remember running many errands, buying furniture, potion ingredients, I even bought a wand once." Dumbledore gestured for him to go on. "I remember how I returned in the evening around five o'clock. Sometimes earlier. Sometimes later." He offered, "I could note down on a calendar when I returned on which day."

"Oh, please do." Dumbledore summoned a calendar. He pointed at the third week of April. "Do me the favour and start with this one. Please write down what you did all day. Like on a timetable? If that's possible?"

"Certainly." Remus nodded and eagerly wrote down what he had done every day of that week.

"That is a very good recollection. You seem to remember all those days like they happened yesterday." Dumbledore pointed on Wednesday. "Look here. You met with me on that day. I can remember that we met too. But I would have been unable to come up with the exact date without looking into my diary. You even remember the exact time we met and how long our meeting took. But I guess I'm just getting old."

Remus shook his head in denial. "You seem to me as sharp as ever,"

"Thank you. I actually feel as sharp as ever." Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Maybe you just naturally got a very good memory."

"Maybe that's it." The younger wizard confirmed.

"I wonder," Dumbledore looked curiously over his half-moon spectacles. "Can you remember the time you were a student just as good?"

"No." Remus shook his head. "That's too long ago."

"Certainly." Dumbledore nodded in understanding. He asked off-handedly, "And what about the year you were teaching at Hogwarts?"

"No, that's pretty jumbled too. I guess that year was just to packed with incidents."

"Maybe that's it." Dumbledore folded his hands and fell silent clearly thinking matters over. "It's almost uncanny how good your memory of the recent months is."

Remus smiled while replying, "It is – isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." Remus frowned but Dumbledore took no notice of it. Instead, he pointed at that Wednesday in April, "When you left me, you went to Gringotts. Where did you go from there?" Dumbledore's wand pointed at the afternoon. There was a blank area covering the entire time between lunch and dinner. Neither meal was noted down in Remus' schedule. On most other days, he had even noted down what he had eaten but on this day he seemed to have fasted. Remus had spent the entire evening studying first a book about Home Improvement Spells before switching to one about The Theory Of Transfiguration.

Remus stared at the blank spot. "I met with the Regent of House Potter."

"Maybe he even invited you to lunch and dinner?"

Remus silently stared at the afternoon.

"For what reason did you meet with the Regent on that afternoon?"

"I shouldn't tell you."

"I thought you were no longer contracted by him? That was what you told me at the start of our meeting. I asked you if there were any oaths we would have to take care of and you declined."

Remus confirmed, "There aren't any oaths or contracts."

"Are you telling me you could answer me if I asked you whether you were forbidden from revealing the identity of the Regent of House Potter to me?"

"Yes, I could."

"Well, why don't you tell me then?" Before Remus could reply Dumbledore requested, "Close your eyes and think of him. Don't tell me. Just remember what clothes he wore on that Wednesday in April."

Remus' eyelids remained shut for almost two minutes. He frowned and his face twisted in agitation. "I can't!"

"Then think of that meeting with the goblins. What were you there for?"

"I fetched exactly one hundred Galleons and fifty Sickles. Not from the counter but from the vault itself."

"Picture that moment and look into my eyes. I will use Legilimency. Ready?"

Remus looked at the blue eyes of the older wizard. "Okay,"

A sharp motion of Dumbledore's wand backed up the whispered incantation, "Legilimens!"

Remus gasped, "I can feel the chunk of missing time!" He blinked in confusion, "It's like..." He was visibly searching for words, "... a blanket... of black velvet... it's shrouding my memories. I can feel the holes. There are so many. I know there should be memories in their stead! But there is nothing..." Eye contact broke. "How did I not notice this before?"

Dumbledore left his armchair and stepped over to his window to look over the grounds of Hogwarts.

Remus gave the wise wizard time to mull this over but after a few minutes, he wondered whether he had been forgotten and asked, "Is this some kind of Confundus Charm? Was I compelled to not notice this?"

"No, you were not. There are no traces of mind magic in your head. Your memory was removed very precisely. There is just nothing to remember so you could not notice. The mind is a wonderful thing, Remus. It can sometimes fool itself in its enthusiasm to please. Think of all the wrong answers students gave you. There is a branch of memory manipulating magic that is based on this principle. But it has fallen out of favour a long time ago."

"If my mind was manipulated you can undo it and restore the memories can't you?"

"I'm sorry but there is nothing to restore. I couldn't even find a trace of your memory." "I fear we will find nothing at the other empty spots either. We will check your memory in time but not now. Right now we have to deal with the implications of this development."

"Is there any possibility this is not the Regents doing?"

"No, it was either him or he asked someone to do this in his name." The headmaster retook his seat. "Such a thorough manipulation requires a lot of time and knowledge of what one wants to manipulate. I think it's safe to assume that the Regent was the only one who had the opportunity to arrange this."

Remus gulped, "Do you think that the Regent is... You-Know-Who?"

"No, this doesn't match with Voldemort's usual mannerisms." Dumbledore's unconcerned use of the feared name made Remus jump slightly in his chair. "Whoever did this was very careful and precise. We can not underestimate how much careful work was invested in modifying your memories. I can't picture Voldemort" Remus jerked again. "patiently going through your mind to erase only a selected number of memories. I don't even think he can work with such a gentle hand. And I can't see Voldemort investing this much effort anyway when he could have gotten away with wiping out your last half year."

"So, I did not work for him unwittingly?"

"For which reason should Voldemort have abandoned the lawsuits?" Dumbledore shook his head in the negative. "I think another explanation makes much more sense.

Consider this: The Regent of House Potter somehow confirmed that Voldemort has returned. He then realized that I'm our best option to counter him. Then you delivered my inquiry to combine our resources. He was unwilling to do so. But he was also unwilling to join the other side. So when I announced to him that I would oppose Voldemort a second time, he chose to not weaken me and consequently abandoned the lawsuits."

"But why would he wipe my memories and cancel our contract?"

"There is only one plausible answer. You must have chosen our cause over his. And he must then have decided to cut ties with you. You know the saying about servants serving two masters. Maybe, you and he even compromised and you agreed to assist him in erasing your memories. That would explain the five hundred galleons you found in your vault."

Remus pondered this. "But who could be capable of doing something like this?"

"Since we know nothing about the Regent of House Potter, it could have been him. But since he is very willing to hire specialists I would not count on it either. For the time being the Regent will remain an enigma."

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. And special thanks to Rude Guest(I've not made that one up! It is the anonymous name s/he chose.) If you want to tell me something or find mistakes feel free to use your normal accounts.(Or use the anonymous function if you want to.) I won't bite and I like criticism!


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